Missing: One 'Baby Duck'
by annoying-antisocial
Summary: Can the team save him? Or will Dr. Lance Sweets be missing forever? What if Bones was wrong, and the body IS Sweets? Maybe his past caught up with him? (First try at anything, if it sucks I'm sorry!)
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Bones or the characters in this story! **

**This is about Lance Sweets**

**First try, don't crucify me. **

…

Lance Sweets stood before his mirror, a towel wrapped around his waist. He turned his body in an awkward manner and traced a finger down one of the more prominent scars. Shuttering as he had a flash, just barely a memory of something slashing through his skin, his tiny body collapsing under its snap. It cut through his skin, splashing ruby over his back. A sharp breath pulled him from the memory, slowly he began pulling on his jeans and a black t-shirt, one from his teenage days, across his chest "Opeth" emblazoned in a blood red, outlined in white. It was a bad day, he'd talked to a patient whose parents had told him his entire life he was worthless, which awoken Sweets' own past demons. The Jeffersonian team and Booth were all going out for a drink, they'd cracked a case earlier that day. He had barely done anything to help with this one, so why should he go? Instead Sweets fell into his couch and turned his television on. CMT flared across his flat screen, and he glared. A woman called Carrie Underwood's video was playing, it sounded slow and sweet. Instead of changing it, he let the noise play through his apartment. The title of the song was _Temporary Home_, and the lyrics started. His breath caught, and he couldn't regain it as the words rang through his mind.

_Little boy, six years old_

_A little too used to being alone_

_Another new mom and dad_

_Another school, another house that will never be home_

That's all he heard before slamming his finger on his remote, causing the channel to change abruptly. Some story about doom preppers played across his screen, usually he'd be interested but he wasn't. "Six years old?" He managed between halting breathes. He remembered when he was six, when his life turned. Shaking his head, Lance stood. He took large steps to his door, and tore his jacket from the hook, slamming the door as he left. Cold winter air swept over him, almost as strong as the jumbled feelings within himself. He hands were shoved in his pockets, as he watched his breathe swirl like a dragon in the winter air. He'd decide to take short leave from the FBI to work at a mental institute. It would begin tomorrow, but he felt a solemn regret in his gut, without stressful work, he may have to start coming to terms with his feelings. Shaking his head, angered filled him as chains jingled at his sides, something about the world, the way the 'squints' and Booth treated him made him fill with rage. A blind rage zipped through him as he broke into a run, his converse beating against frosted pavement as he ran, getting himself lost in winter air. His gasps for air between strides hurt with the dry, cold air filling his lungs. His heart beat raced as he lost his emotions, and by the time he stopped running he found himself in front of a diner he'd never seen, it's name was odd, Burlseing. Shrugging it off, he'd figure he'd get directions back to his part of town later. He climbed the concrete stairs and went inside.

…

3 weeks later

"Bones, we got ourselves a body!" Booth chimed while pushing Brennans office door open, a chime in his voice filled the air and Brennan couldn't help but smile. They hadn't had a case worth while in quite some time, but judging by Booths tone this one was interesting. "It's out in a snow pile by this old dinner called…" He paused, peering at writing sprawled across his ruff palm. "Bur-les-ing...Burlesing. Wierd name, come on bones lets go!" He clapped his hands together, smiling at her as she pulled her coat from the hook.

They jumped from Booths car, making their way through FBI techs who swarmed the scene. Brennan pushing to the body, and kneeling before it, gently brushing snow she studied. "Definitely male, age early to mid twenties…" She paused looking at the skull, she examined the few frozen skin patches left. A pool of frozen scarlet blood surrounded the body, but she had a look of frustration. "No obvious cause of death, but time of death his around three to four weeks ago, judging by the decomp pared with the weather and road salts. Though, Hodgens will need to analyze all of this." She motioned around to the entire snow pile. Booth let out an exasperated sigh as the techs came in, they knew the drill.

"You heard the genius, get this stuff back to the Jeffersonian." He motioned to the entire snow pile with his pen, snapping his notebook shut.

Cam and Brennan buzzed around the body, talking while Hodgens chimed a few words in. He also threw a theory of government spy in there, but Booth and Angela stood side by side, shaking their heads in unison. "So..can I have the skull Bren sweety?" Brennan simply nodded as she analyzed the spinal discs, one by one. Angela plucked the skull of the table and gingerly carried it to her office. When she got to her office, she smiled at the skull. "Mid to late twenties? You were almost a grown up, kiddo. Sad, you could've been someone really important." Her voice was gentle, like a mother settling her child to bed. A habit she couldn't break was talking to the skulls, she always saw them as people. Slowly she began marking the prominent features, adding basic features to the skull. "You were probably pretty cute, kid. Girls will miss you, for sure." She laughed, pressing her music on. Soft and low, she played violin to help her concentrate. Humming with the Carmen Suite she added details, feeling her heart begin to pound. Taking a deep breath, she added deep coffee brown eyes, full of soul and joy, she added a toothy grin and by instinct added the large dimple to his cheek. Shaking her head she felt hot tears cascade over her fiery pink cheeks. She added oak curls to his head and lost it completely. A loud, shrill note filled the Jeffersonian, Angela's voice the forensic team knew in an instant. She screamed until her voice faltered and she felt tears, Hodgens burst into her office and she collapsed into him. He held her close as the team poured in, followed by a few guards. For a moment everyone was confused, until Angela pointed a shaking finger to her screen. Brennan fell onto Booth in shock. Cam stumbled backwards, catching table just barely. Booth slammed against the wall as he stared, disbelief took his over body.

"You..you did it wrong! You had to have done it wrong.." Brennan snapped, but she and Angela both knew she hadn't. Booth stared, and Cam fell over, hitting the floor, to weak with agony to stand.

"It's...Dr. Lance Sweets." Booth announced to the knowing crowd around him, and Brennan screamed.

**...**

**KEEP READING. DON'T YOU DARE STOP HERE!**

**I mean it. Keep reading. **

**Go to the next chapter!**


	2. Chapter 2

Shall I disclaim again? Well I will. All credit to Fox, Bones is not mine!

...

"It's...Dr. Lance Sweets." Booth's words rang in silence, until Brennans scream broke the soft wall. "Bones!" Booth stood in shock as she pulled herself from him, and ran to the platform, the team pulling themselves together enough to manage a dull run. The beepers blared, and Cam swiped her card as Booth ran to catch up with Brennan.

"I'll check the dentals, and any broken bones and I will re check the skull markers, and I will..." She trailed off as tears over came her, Booth ran up and wrapped her in his strong arms. "It..it can't be Sweets!" She announced with such a fierce certainty Booth felt himself jump. Staring at her, pity in his eyes she shook her head. "This man broke his middle, left felanji recently. Sweets wasn't wearing a finger cast last we saw him." Booth shook his head, doubting it, he'd been on leave for 3 weeks after all. Brennan sensed all their doubt and crossed her arms. "We have to get people looking for Sweets! I'll have dentals in by 3, after that we will know for sure...Wait, Angela bring me the skull." Brennans order had a desperate sound, and Angela obliged, shuffling to her office in hopes that maybe it wasn't true.

"Bones, it's very likely that it's Sweets, Angela's usually dead on…" Brennan threw her hand up, silencing Booth in an instant. Though, Angela's drawings are usually dead on, Brennan's genius was always right, he knew that. Angela came back, somewhat running with the skull, holding it to her chest like the dear friend we thought it was. Brennan took it and sat at her desk, beginning what the entire team knew would involve long silence until she caught something. Hodgens pulled Angela, and Cam followed, motioning for Booth. They all stumbled into Angela's office, collapsing on her coaches.

"I'm an ungrateful little jerk." Hodgens announced, thinking of the gut wrenching way he'd treated Sweets. Angela shook her head, rubbing his arm, but he sighed, knowing it was true. "I've treated that kid like trash since he came. He helped me after Angela and I had our falling out, and after that when Zach went crazy...and all I ever did was make him feel horrible." They all sighed, everyone felt the words hanging in the air, 'We all treated him like dirt.' No one said it for a while.

"Not just you, Hodgens, Booth, Brennan, Angela, and I have always treated him horribly. His only reason for living is helping people, and here we are making him think he'd made friends, and next thing bam! We betray him, we leave him in the cold, with no one." She covered her eyes with her hands, as tears soaked her skin. Guilt hit her like a wrecking ball, and the air in the room was heavy. Heavy with words unspoken, crushing everyone, it's deathly silent hands, clawing into everyones skin. The relentless whisper whispering a scream through their minds, 'You hurt him.'

"All he ever did was help us, but we never said thank you! He tried to make us feel better, and yet we never really recognized his emotions….No ,we saw them but we just didn't care!" Angela's fists clenched as she spat the last words, trying to beat the guilt out of her mind as she leaned on Hodgens. Booth listened, and he felt a pang, something more painful than a bullet hit him. It hit everyone of his memories of Sweets and caused a tear to slip down his cheek, he scratched the drop before anyone saw it. Everyone was in a silent, dreadful agreement. That's when Brennan came in, and gave a squeak like sound.

"I found it! This is one of those moments one of you might say 'Eureka!'" She smiled brightly at the guilty group, unaware of the conversation that had been thrown around. "The dentals came in!" A shock hit the group, had they really been sitting here for and hour and a half? "It wasn't Sweets, but they were very similar. The facial reconstruction looked like Sweets by a chance, see the person on our platform just appeared to be Sweets." She paused, the emotion in the room stayed locked in place and disappointment hit her. "Did you all want it to be Sweets?" She asked, a rational question but he cause Angela to fall forward in body racking tears. Cam began coughing from silent tears, and Hodgens sat breathless at the accusation. Booth just stared into space, thinking of what they'd said.

"We didn't realise we'd hurt him until we thought he was dead?!" Booth finally announced to the group of people who all sounded as if they were all going to die. Brennan stood in confusion at the strange reaction to her findings, looking at her team. "Now, we have to find out where he is before he really IS dead." Booth announced, his words lit a spark. They could still say sorry. Angela stood up, plastering on the most perfect smile, even with her cheeks soaked. Cam pulled her ponytail tight, brushing tears gently from her eyes, nodding at Booth. Hodgens let himself breath once more, as he jabbed his finger upwards, giving a thumbs up that said more than words. Booth went out to make a bunch of calls, and launched an all out search for Dr. Sweets.

"Thank you, Dr. B. So much, thank you." Hodgens smiled, his cobalt eyes flashing with tears he had refused to spill. Brennan smiled, still considerably confused. Angela nodded, still wordless as she marched to her computer to begin tracking Sweets' credit cards, phone calls, and anything else she could. Hodgens nearly ran to his office, to analyze the salt and some unexplained particulates. Cam followed Brennan to the platform, and the team began to fell back into it's rhythm. One goal strung all their actions together, they had to save Sweets.

…..

So about none of that was factual, I'm sorry! Next time my research will be extensive. Please, please, PLEASE tell me if I could fix this in any way. More guilt trips to come, yay?


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm sorry if this sucks, I've had some grammar errors. I'll be more careful this time! **

**Time: Relationships between the characters are from the late fifth season. Season in which story is placed is mid December. **

…

"Booth, have you located Sweets yet?" Brennan spoke in a practiced, robotic tone, trying to distance herself. Booth shook his head while punching numbers into his phone, going off to make another call. "Cam, did you call one of my interns?" She didn't look up as she spoke, carefully watching the bones like an eagle.

"No, we can't call Daisy she's too close….Come to think of it, aren't we a little close to this?" Cam straightened her back, thinking of it. "Have you found cause of death?"

"Booth called in favors, a lot from what I could tell." Brennan picked up the right ulna, unaware of the worried sound in Cam's voice. "What about Mr. Vincent Nigel Murray?" She brushed her index finger over the bone, keeping her practiced tone even when worry was nearly blurring her vision. Pausing, she picked up the rib Hodgins has swabbed earlier, and turned it in her palm. "I believe it's safe to say that this is a stab wound."

"I don't know, all your interns are young and seem close to Dr. Sweets. Perhaps it would be best to keep the less rational out of this." Cam shook her head, bewildered by how cold Brennan seemed. She knew thats the mask her colleague always put on, but she thought this case would bring the slightest emotion. After a moment, she became aware of what Brennan had said. "So if the item that stabbed him stayed in his chest long enough, it could have killed him?" She watched the Doctor pick up the ulna once more.

"Very rational idea." Setting the ulna down gently she pretended not to hear the question Cam had asked, when something painful came over her. Brennan looked up at Cam, eyes shimmering with tears. "This is an irrational thought, but it keeps coming into my mind. What if I was wrong, and this is Sweets?" Without a thought, Cam glided around the table and hugged Brennan. Temperance stood in an awkward moment, slightly hugging, mostly patting Cam back.

"Everyones scared, Dr. Brennan. It might be irrational, but it's perfectly normal." Cam released her, and turned back to the body, scraping at a few now thawing pieces of flesh. "So, the stab wound was made by what?" Almost on cue, Hodgins ran up onto the platform, turning back to swipe his card. He smiled like a child getting a lollipop, and both the women knew he'd found something.

"So, those particulates you found on the remains were hard to place. I barely recognized them." He rambled, throwing his arms up in excitement, leading them to Angela's office. Pushing a few buttons, Angela brought up the mass spec analysis. They all stared at him, as he smiled. "So basically, since we are short on time I'll get to the point. The indent on the victims ribs was made by LED lights and red and green plastic." He looked around, waiting for the response. Sighing deeply, he pulled up a photo of a christmas tree in a yard, and in the background was the Burlesing. "The dinner near the body hosts a five block wide decorating competition, the winner receiving up to $1,000. These people are in the lead!" He pointed to the screen, practically giggling.

"I fail to see the relevance of what you've found, Dr. Hodgins." Brennan crossed her arms, looking at the screen. Jack's shoulders slumped as he pointed to the star at the top of the screen, and Temperance eyes widened. "Are you saying that the star on that tree punctured our victims chest?" Hodgins nodded vigorously, and hugged Angela, who was totally unaware of the relevance.

"So, is that cause of death, Dr. Brennan?" Cam turned to her, nodding slowly, hoping she'd guess this once.

"I cannot say for sure yet, I will need to…"

"It's Sweets, Brennan. Dr. Lance sweets." Cam stared at her with hopeful eyes.

"Well, stabbing is the cause of death, and that star could've done the damage...so...for now I will agree that it may be the weapon used." Brennan sighed, turning on her heels. "I'll inform Booth." As she walked out the team stared in dismay, but hope brushed away the pain of their missing Baby Duck.

"So, Bones, you're saying our victim was stabbed with a _christmas tree star_?" He stared at her, closing his phone. She simply nodded, knowing anything she had to say about the absurdity of decorating a tree would anger him. "That's just plain sad, and it's only a week from Christmas!" He sighed, shaking his head, staring at his phone like he was waiting for a miracle. Brennan rested her hand over the phone screen, looking up at Booth.

"We will find him, Seeley, we will." He barely noticed her using his first name, took sick with worry to think. "Come on, lets see if Angel's found something." She said, even though she was already leading him towards the artists office. He simply nodded, he felt like Parker was the one missing, not just some annoying baby shrink. He stared at Angela, whose brow was furrowed in concentration as she tracked every movement on Sweets' phone and credit card in the last month.

"I figure.." She began, not even looking away from her screen, just sensing their presence. "If he had some hangouts he always went to, maybe the FBI people can go there and see if he's been there." Her voice cracked, as she tried to pretend she was just searching for another person, but she wasn't like Brennan. She couldn't make a web of rational and pretend this kid she knew wasn't missing. Hodgins was standing in the doorway, and heard the falter in his lover's voice. Slowly he walked to her, resting his arm across her shoulders.

"That's good, Ang, brilliant even." He took her chin in his palm, cupping her face. "We will find him, we will." Angela nodded, leaning forward to rest her forehead on his shoulder.

"Why would they fake the death of Sweets? And why is it we can't find the identity of his look alike?" Booth has a realization, and couldn't stop himself from voicing it.

"Perhaps they didn't mean to fake Sweets' death." Though as she said it, Brennan knew it wasn't true. "Though, what was left of his clothes did appear to be a suit similar to what Sweets' would wear, and theres no coincidence that our victim died just at the beginning of Sweets' leave.." She hung her shoulders, knowing they meant to make it appear to be Sweets.

"Booth's got a point, why not just kill the real Sweets...unless they needed us to think he was dead." Hodgins, going into full paranoid theory, spoke to what seemed like himself. "What if they needed information on a client, or they wanted Sweets' to be dead because they were going to kidnap him!" Hodgins seemed to forget he was talking about a man he really knew, but it suddenly came back to him. His face filled with guilt, and he hugged Angela tighter, shaking his head. "Cam might have a better theory.." He trailed off as the clicking of heels echoed.

"I don't." Cam spoke from the doorway, her hands on her hips. "Your second theory seems to fit the tests I did on the flesh. I found roofies, assuming they were meant to knock the victim out, he was probably kidnapped. Maybe the kidnappers realized he wasn't Dr. Sweets but began to form a new plan, one they thought would confuse us."

"That's all conjecture!" Brennan threw her hands up, glaring at her team. "Though, backed by little evidence. Perhaps, Booth could follow this lead, if he wished." Booth nodded, walking out of the room to make a few calls. "We will find him." Brennan spoke to herself, and the team softly as she walked towards the platform.


	4. Chapter 4

_**If you have any problems or anything to say I'll take reviews and pms! I really want to make this good. **_

_**Thanks for reading this far!**_

…

The team buzzed, everyone searching desperately for their youngest almost member. Angela's mind was blown up by guilt, she'd treated him fairly, but not like a friend. Hodgins was racking his head for the few nice things he'd done for the kid, just so the horrible things wouldn't bubble to the surface. Cam wished she'd treated him less like a child, and more like a friend. While Booth's thoughts were the worst. He was sarcastic and mean, saying he knew hardly anything about life, even after he heard of his past. He and Bones knew what he'd been through, Bones even saw the scars, so why did he treat him so badly? He felt an overwhelming sense of failure as a surrogate father to the young doctor. "Guys, guys!" Angela squealed, peering around her door frame. Motioning to the two on the platform, while Booth whistled for Hodgins. As they piled into her small space, she grinned. "Three weeks ago, Sweets used his credit card. He bought a bunch of off brand clothes, bland even if I do say so myself." The team waited, hoping she had an idea on what it meant. Hodgins stared at the list of clothing, reading it over when realization washed over him.

"He's hiding!" Everyone turned to Jack, who looked to his wife with a smile. "All those clothes have around zero personality, so he'd blend in. Reading over Angie's list, he also took out a bunch of money at ATM's! Where are they, Ange?" She nodded, sliding her finger across her tablet. Than, she looked up, a worried expression splattered over her face.

"New York...Sweets is in New York." She announced, leaving a stunned silence in the wake of her words. "227 miles away."

**227 miles away….**

The young doctor passed the short distance between the door and the bathroom in his motel room. He'd used cash, an untraceable name, and drove himself hundreds of miles away. Why was he nervous? As he asked himself the question his mind ran back three weeks, to the reason he'd ran.

**3 weeks earlier.**

_Nearly out of breath, Sweets walked into the diner. Looking around for an empty seat when he noticed something that made his stomach turn. A simple jean jacket that had 'Rhode Island Believers' sparwled on the back in mock handwriting. Taking in a sharp gasp, he couldn't move his eyes from the words. Than, the large man wearing the jacket turned around, he had a wicked grin. His greenish-blue eyes sparked a fear in Sweets' heart that made him stumble backwards. The man stood before Sweets, towering over him even though he was 6'0". "Son, it's been a while." The evil voice swam into Sweets' ears, and he shook his head in disbelieve as the man wrapped his burly arms around the doctor, squeezing until he thought his ribs cracked. _

_ "I..I'm not your son." Sweets' protested between forced breaths. The man dropped him, and grabbed the frozen psychologist's arm, leading him out the door. As soon as they were out of the diner, and around the corner into an alley Sweets had realized what was happening. Before he could react the old man slammed him against the wall, forcing all his oxygen out in a heavy gasp. He twisted the collar of Lances shirt around his fist and shook him._

_ "Don't you ever be saying that to me, young man! You hear? I am Tucker Shannon, and I am your father, damned what the law says!" Tucker shook the wiry man until his eyes began to roll back in his head. Soon Tucker released the weak man, watching him fall with a devilish laugh. Sweets pressed his hand to the frozen brick wall, cutting it against jagged edges. He pushed himself up as far as he could, while holding his throat._

"_You were my foster father, not my biological father!" He coughed out, spitting on Tucker's shoes. The man slammed his knee into Lance's face, causing him to reel back. Blood gushed from his nose, and he began coughing, and heaving, trickles of blood sliding down his throat. He didn't scream, he didn't cry, he just looked up at the man as blood dripped onto the fresh snow. "I thought they threw your worthless ass in jail."_

"_Yeah, Rhode Island's law to the max. They put me in for 20, but I got out just two years early on good behavior." The man chuckled, but Sweets couldn't help but laugh, sucking in more of his blood._

"_Good behavior? You gotta be kidding me..." He coughed out before Tucker pushed him into the wall, hard. Sweets swore he heard his ribs crack as he tipped his head back in agony. The man spat in Lances face, releasing and watching him slide into the bloody snow at his feet._

"_I'm gonna get you Lance, I'm gonna take all your friends from you." Tucker announced, looking at the pathetic heap of a man at his feet. Soon grim laughter rose from the crumpled body, an eerie sound floating through the air. The pathetic laughter of a broken man filled the alley, and Tucker stumbled a bit. _

"_Friends? I don't have any!" Sweets announced, sneering at the man._

"_You may say that, boy, but I've been watching. They treat you like dirt, but you care about them. I'll find them, and I'll take them!" He clenched his fist to make his point. Turning his head up, Sweets stared in dismay._

"_Watching?" He stuttered out, between painful gasps._

"_Tracking your internet activity, and your cell phone. I know everything about you, son." He snickered, looking at the heap. "I'll get my revenge for you reporting me, and leaving me! I loved you boy." Great pleasure filled Tuckers body, seeing the young man, broken and bleeding. Kicking snow into the doctors face, he gave him a sharp kick in the gut and left. _

Lance grimaced at the memory, still feeling the bruised ribs Tucker had left him with. He gently sat himself on his bed, thinking of what Tucker had said. Did he really care about the people at the Jeffersonian? He groaned, knowing the answer, then bit his lip as a pulse of pain from his ribs overtook him. He'd gone to a retired doctor and gave him a load of cash to wrap his torso, but it still hurt. Though his mind wasn't entirely on the pain, a dark fear clawed it's way up his back. A cold, relentless monster of fright wrapped itself around his brain, braiding into every thought. He'd ran from Washington, the Jeffersonian, the FBI, his entire life to protect people who could care less if he was dead. He just layed there on that dirty, cheap motel bed. With a slow, halting sigh of pain he slipped into a light sleep. The opposite of peaceful, nightmares haunted him.

**The sharp 'crack' of a whip sliced his back, as a haunting laughter echoed. "Worthless! Dumb! You are a disgrace!" Is all he heard as the belt slashed his skin, he felt cooling blood drip down his back. His small frame collapsing finally, then he was pulled up by his arms and slammed into a closet. The darkness spun, turning and twisting with evil words. It glowed a bright black, a sparkling ebony, as he shook alone, hurt, bleeding and busted in the closet. Soon he heard the voice of his adoptive parents, saying they loved him from a distance, through the darkness. Suddenly the closet changed, it was a hospital. Everything seemed like it was supposed to be fast, but the running doctors ran like they were in syrup. Lance still felt blood drying and dripping down his back, as a slowing 'beep, beep, beep' rang out. Turning his head he saw the limp bodies of his parents in two hospital beds, he watched one line go flat then the other. The doctors ran by, and he fell to the ground. He kept falling until he landed in his office, everything was gray like an old movie. The entire 'squint squad' and Booth yelling at him, calling him a nosey, dumb kid. They began throwing rocks at him, and he screamed like the child the accused him of being. He fell to the ground, everyone stomping on his skull. The pressure beating down on his head was unbearble as they kicked and stomped, laughing like his father those many years ago. **

He bolted up, a scream caught in his dry throat. His breathing was thick and fast, his torso thrummed with pain. He tried to calm himself but he couldn't. This was the worst nightmare he'd had in many years, it was vivid and stuck in his brain. Stumbling up he collapsed into the sink, he turned the cold water knob as began water washing over his head. The sink drained slowly, every few minutes he would only be able to suck in water. He'd begin coughing and heaving, gasping for life, but he never moved. He sat there, his head in the sink, slowly nearly drowning himself over and over until morning came. He felt the warmth of day wash over his body, but he remained on his knees. He couldn't move himself, the aching in his body from the beating overpowered everything. The water rushing into his ears and mouth distracted him from his thoughts, and he kept his eyes squeezed shut, as to avoid seeing himself now. He was really alone now, not just emotionally alone, but physically alone. He shoulder sagged as he turned the water off, letting himself slip to the floor. He'd been falling into depression for a while now, but he felt himself hit bottom as he realised it. "I'm alone." He announced to the empty room, if only to make it real to himself. He layed back on the floor, closing his eyes. He knew he wouldn't sleep, but he couldn't keep his eyes open. A damp spot expanding beneath his head. Taking painful breaths, he forget to remeber for a little while.

…...

**So yeah, most of my story has had little research, but this round I looked up how many years someone in Rhode Island gets! Go team? Next up: Why did Tucker kill the John Doe at the Jeffersonian? How did he find Sweets? All the questions, what are the answers?!**

**I think that was a rather good cliff hanger.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I hope you like this so far, I know I still have lots of errors. I'm trying super hard, I really am! Thanks for reading!**

….

Sweets lay there, staring at rotting ceiling. The white panels had water stains, and he could feel the dirt ground in the rug on his skin, he didn't care. Every movement hurt, he knew if he'd gone to a hospital the pain would be dulling now. He couldn't have gone, Angela surely would have been able to track that. The retired doctor had told him he had a cracked rib, and he was worried that Lance had received a brain injury. At that, Lance promised to avoid sleeping for a few days, which wasn't hard, he hated to sleep anyways. Looking at his rotting ceiling, he accepted this was his new home, at least until there wasn't a search party of FBI agents looking for him. He picked up the burner cellphone he'd picked up from a questionable store, looking at the time, 5:00 am. Shaking his head, he watched as the minutes passed, one by one. Soon it became 6:00, then 7:00, when it neared 7:30 Lance decided to push himself up. Struggling with his sore limbs, he finally grasped the counter, pulling himself to his wobbling legs. Leaning almost his entire weight on his left arm, he felt a small smile come to his face. He seemed like a drunk, and fit right in with other guests at the establishment. Pushing himself up, he stumbled into the compact bathroom. Turning the knob, a calming steam surrounded him as he slipped into a scalding hot shower.

**Jeffersonian**

Angela kept a watchful eye on the screen, waiting for Sweets to slip up and use his name, or his phone or something! Booth, frustrated with the incompetence of the NYPD, yelled at Brennan while stomping up the stairs. "They've started a citywide search, but they have large issues at hand, so they could only spare 20 officers! All of them barely trained rookies, and a few interns with the medical examiner also started looking!" He slumped against the railing, shoving his phone into his pocket.

"They do have an entire city of 8.337 million to protect. There's no reason for them to drop it all to search for a missing psychologist." Brennan stated while looking at the skull.

"I sent a few agents down to help." Booth grumbled, knowing she was right he left it at that. Hodgins scampered up the steps, waving his hands.

"Motels." He said when he reached Booth, who raised an eyebrow at the small scientist. "Sweets would stay in a motel, I mean since he's hiding it's the most reasonable idea. Some pretty run down one, I'd bet. The kind druggies and hookers use." Booth couldn't stop himself from smacking his palm to his forehead.

"Of course! Thank you Hodgins!" He shook the short man's shoulders gently and ran off, dialing his phone.

"Glad I could help…" He trailed off, shaking his head as he made his way to Cam and Brennan. "The particulates are what you'd expect, salt, oil, dirt, little bits of the road, all that. I also found remnants of what appears to be hair gel under his fingernails." His voice rose like it was a question. "The brand I traced is called 'Fantasy Flirt.'" Jack couldn't keep the grin from his face, and Cam looked down to hide her slight amusement. "No traces in the victims hair, so I got to thinking it was the suspects." With that he left, though both the women thought he would have continued, shrugging it off Brennan began sorting through some small bone lacerations.

Booth, with a quick stride, went back up onto the platform, swiping his key card he smiled widely. "Bones, we got us a shrink to go get." Brennan shot up immediately, a wide smile spreading over her face. Her eyes becoming electric as she snapped off her gloves. Cam felt a rush of happiness wash over her, as she couldn't help but let out a loud squeal of joy. Angela and Hodgins ran out of the artist's office, holding each others hands tightly.

"Did we hear right?" Hodgins voice was filled with relief, but he flinched at the last words as he felt Angela scratching down his arm. She was nearly jumping with excitement at the news. Brennan nodded, not able to hide her own joy.

**Back to Sweets at the motel**

A sharp knock hummed through his small motel room, and the young shrink pulled on a grey shirt with a football team logo on the chest. Pulling up his jeans, with 'fashionable' holes in the legs, he walked to the door. Slowly he moved to open it, but his shoulder jared and it took everything not to scream. "Come in." his faint voice was barely audible to the two NYPD officers waiting outside. The one on left turned the knob and when the door fell opened, every aching muscle in Lances body screamed_ 'run'_! The officers were young, just barely older than the psychiatrist.

"Dr. Lance Sweets, under order of one Agent Seeley Booth, we have to bring you with us." The taller officer announced, reaching for the doctors arm. He pulled his shoulder back on reflex and shook his head violently. "Don't make us use force, Doctor." The officer took a step forward and Sweets forced himself to shuffle towards them. They both gave small smiles, and a quick nod. One officer, after much protest Sweets guessed he was the younger of the two, stood beside him as he slowly, painfully made his way to the police car. Every bump in the road cause Sweets to groan, and the two young officers began to grow worried, soon they offered to bring him to a doctor. Sweets shook his head violently and they didn't question him, at least not out loud. Closing his eyes, Sweets decided not to analyze the officers which, much to his annoyance, was very hard. Soon they pulled into the 7th precinct, and when Lance opened his eyes he noticed a car. Shaking his head, he denied what he knew was true, it was Booth's car. The two young officers practically had to drag Sweets into the lobby, then into the elevator. His body ached of pain and the need to run, he couldn't face Booth or Dr. Brennan.

"Please, let me go back to my motel.." He whispered to the officers in a heartbreaking voice, it took every loyal nerve in their bodies not to comply. By the time they had finally gotten the young man into a sitting room, Dr. Brennan and agent Booth were already seated and waiting. Looking up, Booths voice caught in his throat. Brennan felt tears she couldn't hold back. What they saw was this: Young Sweets hanging his head, skinny and weak between the two strong officers. Cuts on his hands and bruises over his body were evident, along with the slump to one side as a result of his rib injuries. His skin was ghostly pale, and his eyes were tired and wished for death. Every breath shook his body with pain, a pain everyone near him could feel radiating. His curls were wet, and fell into his eyes as he stared at the floor, barely glancing up. He'd become even skinnier in the weeks past, and every noise caused him to jump. When Booth set his coffee down he thought the poor man was going to run for it. Lance's nervous glances around the room reminded the Agent of the men in Afghanistan after a rough fight. Temperance could even see Sweet's ache to run, to run away from them. She could see how ashamed he was, and how weak he'd become. She never believed you could see someone's emotion from the way they stood, but now she saw Sweets, she knew she saw a deep depression. The kind that melted into your muscles, causing every small injury to feel like a broken bone. The kind that caused you to hate the world and yourself with such a loathing it was frightening.

"Sweets." Booth spoke quietly, gently but yet the man nearly screamed. The agent stood to comfort him, but Sweets slunk backwards, avoiding his touch. "Lance? Come on, lets get you home kid." His voice was even quieter, sweeter, genuine concern, but yet the young man stepped backwards, still looking to the floor. Something had happened in those three weeks he'd been missing, and Booth was going to figure it out.


	6. Chapter 6

**I'll credit fox again, Bones isn't mine! I hope you liked the last one, this is the one where we figure out some more about our John Doe.**

…..

The three hour car ride was unbearably silent, every movement or word spoken caused Sweets to nearly jump from the car. When they finally reached the Jeffersonian, Booth turned to look back at Sweets. At the Agent's gaze the small man began to shake, he leaned as far back as he could, reeling away. "I'm sorry." Sweets spoke, barely audible. "I won't do it again, please don't hurt me!" He pleaded with Booth and Brennan, and they sat in a shocked silence, no idea how to respond.

"We won't hurt you, Lance. Now come on, Angela's been worried sick." Booth spoke, young Sweets still shaking in fright. He complied, unsnapping his seat belt. Slowly, painfully, he stepped from the car. As soon as his feet touched the ground Brennan noticed the pain in his face, and how short his breaths were.

"Your ribs!" She announced, gently pulling Sweets up, draping his arm over her shoulder. "We need to get him to a doctor!" Booth nodded, and a silent agreement was made. Cam is a doctor.

As they slowly shuffled into the lab, Angela ran over. She smiled but all Sweets could do was slow his pace, dragging his feet. She saw how broken he looked and her eyes began to water, Cam and Hodgins followed after. Hodgins held Angela, looking at Sweets made him nearly cry. Cam saw how his breathing was, how his chest moved quickly, and pain shot through him. She nodded to Booth who slowly took Sweets towards Cams office. She analyzed him, gently pressing his ribs. The only noise Booth had heard from the man was the choked scream when Cam touched him. Half was from the pain, but the other half was from being touched. After an Xray, she told Booth that Sweets' ribs had been cracked and bruised. She had a friend bring over some painkillers and she wrapped his torso in a bandage, and ordered he stay laying down. Sweets complied without a word, every time a member of the team came to talk he withdrew, no words were ever spoken. If someone touched him he nearly screamed, if not actually screaming. No one dared go near the beaten man.

"I understand being a bit angry, but why does he _scream_ when we touch him? I mean I tapped his arm and he screamed like I was trying to _kill_ him." Angela huffed, the group sat on a couch together, awaiting any results on the identity of their John Doe. The investigation had hit a halting point when Sweets refused to speak. There was nothing to discover yet, since many markers on the bones could be due to his past.

"He's stuck, and afraid. If he could run right now, he'd do it." Booth announced, swirling the ice in his water. "Everytime we touch him, he thinks it's whoever beat him to hell." Everyone nodded, sadness falling over them once again. "If I knew who did that to one of my people, oh I'd just.." He trailed off, growling. That's when the team heard some yelling, turning around they saw a limping man stumble towards the doors of the lab.

"Sweets!" Cam shouted in her boss voice, and the weak figure screamed, falling over. Booth ran down, reaching Sweets before he could get up. The team followed after, breathing heavily they stared down at him, curled in a ball. His eyes were closed, tight, and his body was curled so tightly they could only imagine the pain.

"Don't hurt me! I won't run anymore, just don't hurt me!" Sweets gasped, as a tear ran down his cheek. The team stood, stalk straight sharing knowing glances. No one dared to touch him, they all just looked at him. "I don't want you to hurt me anymore..."He trailed off, the painkillers slowly tiring him, he couldn't stay awake much longer.

"Who hurt you?" Booth pressed on, feeling the doctors mental state weakening, maybe he could figure something out.

"Daddy, you did!" He covered his face, crying the words out. "Tucker don't hurt me anymore!" His body began to go limp as his word faded, his pleas started to die as he finally passed out.

"Angela, go track Sweets' foster parents, see if theres one named Tucker." Booth ordered, Angela ran to her office, confusion with her. "Hodgins, you and I are gonna get this kid back to bed. Bones, brief Cam on what we know about Sweets, then we will tell everyone else. Something happened in his past, and it finally caught him." His orders went unquestioned, and everyone ran off as he and Hodgins pulled the limp Sweets' arms over their shoulders and brought him towards the nearest office. They laid the young man on Brennans couch, and ran off to Angela's office. As they got in, Booth noticed the haunted look in Cams eyes and Bones was holding her as she shook her head. Slowly a realization swept Angela away and she nearly fell over. Hodgins stared, and Booth simply pointed to Angela's screen. Though he and Brennan didn't know everything, they knew some. Both of them began to read over the report of a child abuser. The horrific things in the file would scare the pants off any soldier, Booth felt ashamed for ever teasing Sweets.

"He..whipped Sweets?" The horror in Cams voice was undeniable. "He whipped him,locked him in a closet, and beat him until he passed out nearly every day?"

"Tucker Shannon beat Lance until he was bleeding puddles, then through him into a closet, slamming the door and locking it. He wouldn't feed, cloth, or bath him." Brennan's tone had broken, her rational voice broken with tears. "He hung him by his ankles if he didn't eat whatever he decided to feed him, and kicked him if he cried."

"No...not Sweets." Hodgins shook his head, denying all of this. "He's so happy-go-lucky, and optimistic. He's always grinning and helping. There's no way.." He trailed off, reading the details of the beatings. A grotusc feeling filled him as Angela averted her eyes, scrolling down they saw the pictures. Puddles of dried blood, fresh wounds on an anorexically skinny boy, his ribs poking out. Bruises, cuts, and scars were on every inch of his body. Then came the picture of his face, and Angela nearly fainted. One eye was swollen shut, and a cut dragged across hhis face, from above his left eye down to his chin. His cheeks were stained with tears, and she could see it. That was their Sweets, they little dorky kid they knew. Though there was no smile, no dimple, no spark for life in his eyes. He looked just as he did when he came in earlier that day, broken, beaten, and wishing to die. A painful breath from the doorway tore the teams gaze from the screen. There stood Lance, staring at his own face so many years ago. Tears brimmed everyones eyes but his, his face was cold. He had no emotion, and he looked at the picture like it was some worthless item, like it meant nothing.

"Oh." He said, his voice weak but sure. He sounded like he couldn't care less. Everyone picked up his tone, and just stared in disbelief. Then they continued scrolling, and found themselves staring at box with a play button in the center. The small frame of a boy was behind that button, and Angela clicked on impulse.

"_No, daddy, I didn't mean to! I'll never swear again, I promise!" A high, desperate voice filled the room. _

"_You lying worthless kid!" A strong, horrible mans voice called out. Then a large black boot connected with the boys gut, sending him into the air for a just a moment. "Stand up you little rat!" The voice spat at the boy, who tried to push to his feet. Soon a belt slashed through the screen, it slid across the boys skin, leaving behind a trail of blood and torn flesh. The belt swung again and again, cracking the child's back open, leaving gaping wounds. Shades of scarlet red poured down his back, and the boy stumbled forward. "No running, Lance!" The voice screamed, grabbing the boy by his soft curls and throwing him, face first, into the wooden floor. The belt hung in the corner, covered in blood, it had began to tear from all the beatings. The small boy shook, but he never cried. The belt went back and the most sickening sound came as it cut through Lances shoulder blade. The same spot had been hit multiple times, and you could see white glistening through the blood, his bone. The belt swung back again, and hit that spot once more, the flashing white bone becoming more obvious. A scream finished the tape, a scream louder than you could imagine, followed by thick, evil laughter._

The team stared at the black box on the screen. "That sick bastard...He..he.." Booth clenched his fists, utterly appalled.

"He video taped one of his beatings." Sweets stated simply, the team had nearly forgotten he was standing there. Obvious pain had filled his eyes, but the rest of his face stayed in a practiced, unemotional state. No one could speak, no one could imagine what Lance was feeling, they watched as he turned, walking back towards Brennan's office. They watched him turn into her office, when they saw his back all they could see was the bloody, beaten, wounded child.

Turning to his phone, Booth said. "John Doe's name is…" he paused, reading the name over and over. "Lance Reed…" They all stared, the victim's name was also Lance?

…..

**I'm really sorry if that was overly graphic, but I thought the team needed a good idea on what had happened to Sweets. More to come.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm super sorry if that was overly graphic! I'm not so sure where this story will be going, please review!**

…..

Sitting in Dr. Brennans interesting little office, Dr. Sweets began reviewing the facts. He was doing this to try and keep his mind straight, he couldn't feel anything. Emotionally or physically, everything was turned off. His memories were fuzzy, but a pain was creeping through his injured body. Shaking his head he pushed away the memories and physical pain, he tried to ignore it. Tipping his head back he looked up at the roof, and pain burst through every part of his body. Like a dam of emotion, of hurt, of everything the Jeffersonian team had put him through was crashing around his body. On reflex to the blossoming headache, he pressed his palms to his temples, biting his bottom lip until it dripped blood. Pulling a leg up to his chest, his breathing became short again, the painkillers faded, quickly. He pressed his forehead to his knee, he began controlling his breathing, only so the team members passing the office to check on him wouldn't notice. Lance had to think about every breath, and with every movement of his broken chest a shot rang through his nerves. He refused to ask for more pain medicine, only because he refused to talk to any member of that team. The young man knew it was him reacting in anger to his body's quaking pain, but every snide comment, every side ways glance was coming back to him. All the times Hodgins had undermined his skills, sarcastically replied to what he had to say, and pushed him farther into depression pushed forth an anger Lance hadn't felt since he was 16. Every cold comment, and eye roll Angela had given pressed it's way into his growing frustration. All those times Brennan had told him his insights were useless guesses stormed in like an army. The way Cam looked past him, no through him cause his body to actually shake with rage. All the times Booth called him a child, and said how nothing had ever happened to him that was remotely bad climbed it's way up. Soon, his perfect walls, the once he'd so precariously built to hide any and all emotion, fell. His textbook detachment, his secretive mind all broke free in a frenzy of helpless rage. Pushing himself off the couch, he refused to sercum to the pain his horrible past had brought back. He knew his file had continued, and by the gasps he'd heard, the team and began reading the rest. How Tucker had burnt his toes with a lighter until he would pass out, the pictures of his blackened toes and fingertips. The marks on his wrist from being tied to a bed for weeks, just so tucker could drive to Las Vegas and gamble. How he'd sold Lance into mock slavery to work off a debt with a loan shark. Doctor Sweets had reviewed that file more than once, on his most self loathing days he'd read it all the way through. He heard a choked gasp, and Dr. Brennans comment on how the injuries resembled medieval torture, and something yelled 'run'. The same voice that had screamed run when the officers came, belted 'bolt' when they had left him in Cam's office. The voice that convinced him to go to New York. That voice told him he had to leave, to protect these people from the horrible man that is Tucker Shannon.

"Torture, Bren?" Angela gasped, staring at the picture of bruises and broken bones etched over Lances life with that man. Temperance simply nodded, utterly appalled by it.

"Sweets? Little Lance Sweets?" Hodgins gasped out, his voice still held the denial everyone tried to hide. "He always smiled, but inside he must have felt so...so… _helpless!" _

"The way we treated him after Zach. How we told him his profession was pathetic, and how he was just a kid…" Cam trailed off, looking to the floor. "I guess one of us should go make sure baby boy shrink hasn't ran off." She tried to lift the guilt from the air, but she couldn't. With a silent agreement, she turned and began walking towards Brennan's office. She turned to the door and saw the man wearing the carpet by walking back and forth. Every step held an obvious pain, and his eyes had grown weary, like an old man telling his war stories. "You shouldn't be moving, Dr. Sweets." Cam kept her words formal, simple, stating his title like he was a stranger. She still had the slightest hint in her voice, a pity and the tone of a superior speaking to a child. That slight tremor sparked Sweets dimensioning self control, releasing an anger so obvious Cam saw it in his body language. Pulling himself up as straight as he could manage, he shot her an icy glare. The warmth in his eyes, the caring, simple brown fading as he stared at her.

"Now _you_ care?" He said, his tone had the rath of a snake bite. Cam felt the sting, but she took it. She deserved it. Nodding simply, she knew he had to continue. "You could have cared before I gave up. You could have cared before I considered_ suicide_!" His voice was raising, and the rest of the team heard the end of that sentence. Everyone thought they couldn't have been surprised anymore then they had in those last few days, but with those simple words they were hit. "You didn't! You never cared, none of _you_!" He snapped his arm to the side, exaggerating his point. His voice rose with the pain, but his shouting continued as anger bubbled over everything. "But I still cared! I left my home to protect the likes of you! You people who treated me like a rodent!" He hissed at her, snatching his jacket from the couch. By this time the team had managed to gather themselves enough to come toward the office, just in time to watch a limping Sweets storm out. An eerie sense hit them, and Booth ran after him.

"Suicide?" Angela gasped, just about tired of being hit by blow after blow. Hodgins nodded, clarifying that she'd heard right. Cam stood stock still, watching the spot where Sweets had stood.

"He was beaten, his parents died, and all we did was attack him. He stood like a man, he took it and continued to help us!" Cam cried, the realization of the past days hitting her. "It took us thinking he was murdered to care? We dropped that boy into depression, and all we did was throw rocks while he was down there!" She turned to her team, who nodded as tears painted everyones face. "He wanted to kill himself, and we didn't see? He would have seen, he would have helped!" She gasped, her tears beginning to take her breath away. "Even if we had seen.." Her voice was quiet, the tone in her voice was weighted with pain. "_Would _we have helped?" With those final words, a silence fell over the forensic team, an accusation that seemed too horrible to consider. Yet, it had a haunting ring of truth.

"Sweets!" Booth shouted after the storming man, he saw the drastic limp as he quickened his pace. "Lance." He called out, causing the young man to halt in his steps. Turning so quickly, he'd caused the agent to jump. A look of disgust crossed his face. An angry comment was about to spill out, Booth could see, he prepared himself.

"Didn't know you knew my name, Agent." Sweets spat, those simple words caused a rush. Booth knew he should have felt angry, but all he wanted to do was sweep the young psychologist into a hug. Leaning onto his heels, the man crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. A cold stare still in his eyes, the hurt boy Booth had witnessed earlier was still there, now guarded by a fierce giant. "Figure out who my look alike was?"

"Lance Reed." Booth stated simply, taken back by this side of Sweets. He'd never seen the man very angry, but now he was boiling. Booth felt like at this moment, the way the injured man stood he could either bolt or strike. Looking at Sweets' face, he saw that he'd been taken back, out of his anger by the name of the victim. Shaking his head he huffed, going back on the defense. Sweets about to turn and leave when Booth spoke quietly. "We were wrong. We treated you horribly, and you still cared for us. The things we did to you…., if I were you I would've walked out months ago. You stayed. now I see it, you stayed because you're strong. Probably one of the strongest people I've ever met. Now come inside and take some painkillers, lets catch that bastard." Booths words weren't enough, the agent knew that. If he could just get the kid inside, maybe, just maybe the team could start their very long road to forgiveness. Slowly Lance pushed himself back towards the agent, neither spoke. Slowly they made their way back inside, and pitying glances met them. Lance turned his head, ignoring them, then something startled everyone.

"The way I've shouted and spoken to you all is unreasonable. I shouted at you in anger, and I'm sorry." Sweets' tone was robotic, frozen in psychologist talk. "My personal feelings have no place here, if I made any of you feel bad, my deepest apologies." Everyone stared, it was wrong. He shouldn't be saying sorry, they shouldn't be receiving an apology. A cold whisper of sadness hit everyone as the saw it, a smile. His smile crossed his face, and he looked at them all, trying to stand up straight. The rest of the team felt disgusted at themselves, they watched his perfect smile appear. His eyes still held a sadness deeper than anyone of them could imagine. A solemn silence in the room held the smile of a hurt soul, his eyes contained the most painful feeling you could see.

"No...that's not right…" Brennan spoke softly, gently while staring at the man. Her clinical tone fading as her lip quivered slightly, she shook her head. Sweets' fake smile fell and he nodded, his anger still prominent over anything.

"No kidding." He said, turning away. "Doesn't take a C-class psychologist to see that one." Sweets stated, leaving the room to lie down once again. His words left a ghost, an anger, a pain, something the entire team needed to fix. They knew that, and Sweets knew that.

…

**How? I don't know, this chapter wasn't the best. Thanks for reading! **


	8. Chapter 8

**I don't really know where this is going anymore, fingers crossed.**

…

The Jeffersonians forensic team stood in a daze. There little shrink, the youngest almost member, had hit them with blow after blow. His past was a wreck, he'd been beaten, tortured, burned, starved, and sold over and over. Three weeks ago he'd decided to take a leave, and some how ended up running into his childhood torturer,who delivered a near fatal beating. Now they discovered, due to their own mental torture, he was depressed and anxious to die. Lance Sweets' simple, innocent form disappeared into Dr. Brennan's office. They watched as he turned, catching a glance of a diamond tear falling over his cheek. Angela took a deep breath in, sorting through all they'd learned about the young doctor, a week ago she'd have laughed at anyone who told her those things. Her husband, doctor Hodgins, stood beside her thinking of how ridiculous it would have sounded to say that young happy-go-lucky doctor was so deep into depression he wanted to die. Cam shook her head, ignoring all the thoughts tumbling through her brain. Temperance held her arm to her side, reviewing all the facts, but she still stood in disbelief. The burley Agent Booth was cursing in his head, he knew that Sweets had been through something horrible, but never once had he thought it to be that horrible. "We need to solve the case." Brennan announced, though her voice was broken. They all nodded, a simple agreement was forged under Lance's name. They'd find the killer of Lance Reed, but to protect Lance Sweets.

Sweets sat up, he'd fallen into a deep sleep, not a single dream passed through his thoughts. Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he temporarily forgot all he'd said to the group. The whole day had become an angry blur, one he didn't wish to investigate. He remembered it, but yet he'd pushed it from his mind, giving himself an objective view. He pushed his past away, locking his emotions, his very being away. Slowly he made his way to the platform, swiping his car in an expert movement. His walking was steadier, he'd been healing in his sleep, plus he had an extra dose of painkillers after his outburst. Turning to Lance, the team nodded, managing a few smiles. He looked up, pulling off his perfect smile, his chocolate colored eyes sparkling in the intense light. His slow movements resembles a child coming to a new school, unsure and nervous.

"I went over the bones, the injuries resemble those sustained in childhood." Brennan announced, unaware of the young mans presence on the platform.

"Tucker knew his victim wasn't who he wished it to be, but he wanted to send a message to the victim he has chosen?" Sweets asked, hesitant, he didn't want to get barked at about useless guess. Or told to go back to bed. Instead he received worried glances, nods of agreement, and guilty looks. He managed his smile again, looked at them with this grin. His smile, with his dimples, looked like a young child, but his eyes held pain. They twinkled gently in the light, happiness faint and projected, fake joy. "Assuming he just wanted to scare the victim, since I know he could have gotten to said victim. Perhaps, it was just a way of taunting him, or he has worse plans." Sweets shrugged, talking about 'the victim' like it wasn't him, he spoke nonchalantly.

"Sweets the victim Tucker wanted to hurt is…" Sweets held his hand up to Cam, who complied with silence. He looked up, giving a smile as tears brimmed his eyes, his hand fell back to his side. Blinking a few times, he hid his tears from the others, but Cam had seen. "Right, the victim he wanted to get is in danger." She nodded at Sweets, who held his breath, trying to hold back his pain. Hodgins looked to the floor, and then back to Sweets.

"He'd told this victim he wanted to get to his friends, but I think he was lying. I think he told the victim that to make him pull away, so it would be easier to get to him." Hodgins sighed deeply, the words barely escaping his lips. "His goal is most likely to kill the person he was looking for." Sweets bit his lip, shoving his hands in his pockets. Letting out a deep breath, he pushed himself farther from the case, farther from himself.

"I agree, Hodgins. This man is clever and cold, he's a sucker for revenge." Sweets sighed, had been staring in confusion, but soon understood. Holding Booth's hand, she decided to go along with her team, if only to protect their 'baby.'

"Lance, the one on our table, has exhibited post mortem injuries, as well as pari mortem. He's fingers were burned to the bone, and his wrists pulled from his sockets before death. Though all the whipping damage, and the marks of being carved are after death." Brennan turned her gaze to Sweets, whose hand went to his leg in reflex. She nodded. "The marks of being cut and carved are on his upper femur. Though, he was already dead, unlike Tuckers…" She looked at the young psychologist before her, and nodded, understanding with everyone. The entire team was on the platform, and they were all staring at Sweets.

"Lance!" Angela couldn't hold herself back, she pulled him into a hug. "He did those things to you?" She whispered, her voice was soft but loud enough the team heard. He pushed her away, gently enough, but she got the message.

"Yes, he did." Sweets stated, unable to push his feelings aside anymore. He kept his hand on his leg. "All those things, and things that cannot mark ones body." He said it with a weak voice, but he tried to sound professional. Angela stared at him, she noticed how strong his face was now. His jaw clenched, and determination written over his every movement. His will to live was greater than anyone she'd ever known. He looked over the team, analysing them on reflex and memory. They were guilty, torn, hurt, and in denial. He couldn't say anything that could fix how he saw they felt. Instead he just smiled, a big, confident smile. "I survived then, I'll survive now." His words were sure, focused, and they left a new essence in the room. This hurt, fragile, sad young man who was being hunted down by his past could stand and say he was fine, they could at least stand beside him.

"Hell yeah, kid!" Hodgins punched the air and grinned, "I'm by yeah, no matter what. Just don't shrink my head." Sweets grinned at the last comment, finally this team was coming back together. Looking around, Lance knew they needed to talk about what they'd seen. About what he'd said, and how he'd never spoken to them, but for now they were going to do what they do best. They were going to catch a killer.


	9. Chapter 9

_The last one was kinda like a filler, I was trying to make Sweets' health come back a little. Lets get on to some serious business. _

…_._

Lance Sweets had given the team confidence, he had given them a caffeine like rush to solve the case. In his mind, he'd used psychology and pulled himself from the case emotionally, showing the team they could also. To the rest of the team, he'd shown them how hurt he was, but the great length he'd take to protect them. They'd all realised he wasn't just the FBI psychologist that hung around, he was a little brother to them. A genius, annoying, helpful little brother that they had to protect,_ no matter what_. Brennan worked harder than she had in a very long time, painstakingly analyzing each bone. Trying to ignore the fact that most of the recent injuries, if not all of them, were things Sweets had to endure as a child. His pain became more real to her, she couldn't rationalize it anymore. Dr. Brennan set down the bone she had been holding, discovering yet another disgusting post mortem injury. Her walls of truth and fact fell, crumbling inside her, all she could think of was how strong Sweets had been. How he'd taken all of her blows at his profession, barely flinching, even after his past. So many times had a crash of guilt hit her these past days, but this one was stronger. Staring at the skeleton before her she decided, it had taken the entire team to think he was dead to see they'd hurt him. Now she saw, and even if it seemed irrational, she had to do it. Turning away, Brennan made her way to her office nearly running across the bleached floor of the Jeffersonian. Slowing her pace, and her breathing, Brennan turned in to her office. There she found the psychologist staring at nothing, his face was blank, as he held a pillow tight to his chest. Temperance cleared her throat, making the young man cover his mouth to avoid screaming. Turning to her, he tensed a little more. His thoughts had drifted to his past, to his pain, and he couldn't stop it. It was like driving on ice, he couldn't control his mind. Slowly, Sweets pulled himself to his feet, he was just above her height so she turned her head up barely to meet his eyes. Dread was what she saw, a fearful, shaking dread spilled in his dark eyes. He didn't try and pull a smile, he could see she didn't want to see one. Temperance looked up at him, her stormy eyes misty. He sucked back his own tears and turned his view to the bookshelves to his right. The anthropologist wasn't sure how to go about it, but she felt she had to do it. " ...I mean, Lance…" Her voice called his attention back, and he looked to her. Before he could respond she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. It was a fast, awkward hug but it had a motherly feeling about it. "I'm so sorry, Lance, I am. I'm sorry for what you went through, but I'm even more sorry for what I did to you." She whispered into his ear before dropping her arms, and straightening her lab coat. When she let go of him, he felt his painful memories wash away, if only for a moment, he felt cared for. Ever since his parents had died, he hadn't felt like this, but now, looking at a nearly crying Dr. Brennan, he felt it. Lance choked back his tears, nodding down at her, he couldn't manage many words.

"Thank you.." His voice cracked at those words, and Temperance smiled giving a little nod. She spun on her heels, making her way out of her office. Lance flopped back onto the couch, letting out a painful sigh. A tear fell down the doctors face as his thoughts rushed back, but they weren't as strong. A feeling of being cared about pushed them away, like a thin barrier protecting him.

"Okay, we've tracked down our vic's family." Booth announced to Brennan, who buzzed around the body. "You found yourself squintern?" She nodded, pointing at Wendell, who was buttoning his lab coat as he walked up the stairs. "Then lets go Bones, we got us a murder to solve." He made a movement with his arms, making it appear he was jogging. She smiled, shaking her head. When she reached him on the floor he leaned close, whispering "Should we bring Sweets?"

"He is a psychologist, the family might need him." She whispered back and Booth nodded, walking towards where the psychologist was sitting. "Come on kid, we gotta go tell the family." Sweets turned his head up, looking a bit confused. Booth just groaned, and made a move with his arm motioning for the young man to get going.

"I look like a 16 year old!" Sweets protested as they neared the Agents car.

"You always look like a 16 year old." Booth shot back, a laugh in his voice. Sweets hung his head, a smile pulling at his lips. "But don't worry, baby boy shrink, we'll stop at your place quick and let you dress up in big boy clothes." Booths voice was teasing, like he was talking to a toddler.

"I don't dress up!" Sweets said back, a whiney tone in his voice. Brennan began to smile at their little banter. "I dress like a professional." He said with certainty, and Booth shook his head, grinning. The agent spun the keys on his index finger before unlocking the car, he pulled his door open. Brennan hopped into the passenger seat as Sweets pulled himself in the back with a groan. A slight pain was in his voice because of his rib injuries. Brennan turned, ready to push him back to her office. "I feel so juvenile sitting back here." He huffed at her, smiling just barely, he crossed his arms with a pout like a seven year old. Booth laughed, shaking his head. Tipping his head back, the young psychologist let his life slowly fall back into place, the way it had been before Tucker had returned.

Slowly Booth pulled up to Sweets' building, but a soft snore was in the back of his car. turning around he saw the young man had fallen to his side, still buckled into the car, and fallen asleep in the most awkward position he'd ever seen.

"Does he have an extra key?" Booth whispered to Brennan, glancing back at the man.

"Traditionally, people keep a key on their keychain." She whispered back, there was no sarcastic tone but Booth gave her a glare. The psychologists keys had fallen from his pocket while he slept in his strange position. Brennan plucked them from the floor and pressed them into Booths hand. He closed his strong fist around them and gently got out of the car. The agent ran up to the apartment he knew to be Sweets' and went to look for a suit. Brennan sat with the sleeping young man, the silence calm and quant. There was a squeak like noise from the back, and a pained expression on the psychologists face. He began to wake up, mumbling.

"Stop..please..I didn't know…" Came a soft, sleepy voice from the back. Brennan turned, on an instinct she didn't know she had she pressed her gentle hand to Lance's. He relaxed a little, but was beginning to breath quickly. She held his hand firmly as she slid her buckle off to turn all the way around. His breathing was still quick, but his expression was softening. Brennan began to hum a gentle song, low sweet notes as a mothering instinct took her over. Drawing gentle circles over the top of his hand, she watched as the young man began to fall back into his sleep. Soon Booth slipped back into the car, the woman still unaware. She was staring at the sleeping man in the back, a soft smile on her lips.

"Bones, you look like you're his mom." Booth whispered, startling her. She pulled her hand quickly from Lance's, the action pulling him from sleep. He sat up slowly, leaning on one hand, he rubbed his eyes softly with the other. With his eyes barely open, he turned his gaze to the two staring at him. Gentle curls framed his face, and a perfect, innocent smile was across his mouth, his dimple giving him a child like look. Sweets' clothes were wrinkled and old looking but his face was pure. The light of the setting sun falling gently over his skinny body, framing his features. Brennan felt her breath catch at the angelic effect that the light had on the young man. Slowly, Lance pulled himself up, still looking like an innocent boy.

"Are we at my apartment?" The psychologists voice sounded younger, less heavy with pain. It was soft and sweet, like a song birds.

"We got your suit already, Sweets. We'll stop at a gas station for you to change, it would take too much time to go back in." Booth spoke quietly to the tired kid in the back of his car. He turned the key, pulling forward out of the parking lot.

As soon as Booth pulled up to the gas station Sweets ran inside, changing quickly be didn't bother looking in the mirror, fearing what he'll see.

"So now we go tell the family?" Lance spoke as he got back in the car, with a nod Booth pulled out.


	10. Chapter 10

**I've been putting this off, but I can't anymore. I'm not sure how we shall go about the case, just stay with me! Comment and tell me if I screwed up!**

…

Sweets sat in the back of the car, tapping his heel on the car floor. He looked around nervously, and Booth glanced back at him in the mirror. "What's up, Doc?" Booth raised an eyebrow, his comment causing a smile to spread over the nervous doctor's face. Brennan just shook her head, confused by the comment.

"Nothing, I'm perfectly fine." Sweets' words were rushed, high pitched, and practically oozing nerves. "Why would you think anythings wrong?"

"Don't give me that, I'm no shrink but I know somethings up." Booth hissed back at him.

"I'm just scared, you know. This family lost their son and it's probably my fault…" He trailed off, looking in the distance.

"Hey, hey it's not your fault. Just because Tuckers a crazy man and whacked that guy doesn't mean it's your fault, you didn't kill him." Booth's voice was deep, reassuring. The young psychologist felt a little better, but was still wracked with fright.

Sweets' stood behind Brennan and Booth as they knocked, which concerned them both. Usually he stood off to the side or slightly behind them, but this time he was practically cowering in their shadows. A woman opened the door, she wore a simple dress with a cardigan over it. She had moccasins on her feet, and her face was gentle, her age probably in the mid 50's. Her hair was a fading rusty red, it brushed over her shoulders, curling behind her ears. She smiled with her thin pink lips, all her wrinkles made her look kind and wise. "Hello? May I help you." Her timid voice spoke, acknowledging the two before her, unable to see the hiding sweets.

"Yes, hello. FBI." Booth took out his badge and showed it to her, her color draining immediately. "Are you the mother of Lance Reed?" He kept his voice kind, gentle.

"No, I'm the wife of Lance Reed...why?" Her voice picked up with her question, her eyebrows raised quizzically. "Has something happened to my husband?"

"Uhm, yes…" Booth trailed off, utterly flabbergasted. He held up a picture they'd gotten from the DMV to the woman and she nodded, showing it was her husband. Turning the picture back around, Booth shook his head, the young man on the photo's hair was longer than Sweets', covering his ears. His eyes were younger looking, less mature, and he had no dimples. Lance Sweets had deep brown, thoughtful eyes, while this mans were a hazel, jumpy sort. He resembled a drunk college student. "I'm sorry to inform you, Mrs. Reed, but we've found some remains that have been identified as your husband's." The woman's face lost all it's friendly, jolly looks, her bright blue eyes fading as tears cascaded over her cheeks. Shaking her head violently, she motioned for them to come in, putting her hand over her mouth she shook silently. Her shoulders hunched, and her tears silently fell, she pressed her hand to a photo on the wall as she followed them inside. Sweets glanced up to see the photo was of her and his almost twin on their wedding day. Guilt flew over him, bombing his every thought, he pressed it away. As she sat in the living room, her head turned down to her legs, the three sat.

"Hello Mrs. Reed, I'm Dr. Lance Sweets." The psychologist spoke gently, leaning closer to the woman. Her gaze turned up and her eyes widened, staring at him. "What's your name?"

"I-I'm Darla Reed, pleased to meet you...Lance.." Her words were slow as she stared in disbelief at the doctor. "You're a doctor? You look 20." She shook her head, trying to be sure she was seeing correctly.

"Yes, I am." He stated simply in return. "I'm sorry, this is difficult I know.." She glared at him before he could finish, halting his words.

"You don't know.." She barked at him, causing the man to flinch, falling backwards. He pushed his body into the couch, traumatized still by the return of his childhood torturer.

"No..I don't." He spoke gently, clearing his throat he pushed himself forward. The woman felt a little guilty for scaring the young man, so she looked him in the eyes. "But to find the person who killed your husband, you'll need to help agent Booth." Sweets' words were kind, practiced and robotic, but there was an edge. A bite to his words as he pulled his card from his jacket pocket, placing it in her hand, not so gently. "Call me if you need anything." Again, sweet, kind words on the surface with a slight sting hidden inside. Sweets nodded to Booth, giving him the lead, with an unsure nod in return Booth started in.

"Ddi your husband have any enemies?" Booth spoke the classic question, watching like an eagle over the woman, she simply shook her head no. "Any recent fights, arguments, or anything like that?" She began to shake her head again, when she turned her gaze to the agent. He knew what was coming next, it nearly always happened.

"Yes." Darla said, and Booth almost smiled at himself for calling it. "His boss, he works as a photographer, was yelling at him over the phone a few weeks ago. He said his work wasn't creative anymore, he was barely an artist, which isn't true my Lance was amazing." Booth shook his head, seeing more and more how different the two Lance's were.

"Why didn't you report him missing, Mrs. Reed?" He asked as he made a note about the boss. She looked up, startled at the question.

"W-well you see, Lance was a free spirit." She said, twisting a tissue in her hands. "He'd sometimes run off to take photos at exotic places.." She continued, her voice growing quiet.

"I'm sorry to have to ask this but, did you suspect your husband of having an affair?" As he spoke he already saw her begin to nod, as more tears began to flow.

"I knew he was, I mean he loved me but I'm old. He wanted young, fun women from time to time, but he always came back to me." She covered her face in her hands and Sweets sat up, catching something in her words.

"Where were you three weeks ago on the 5th of December?" Brennan interjected, seeing how Sweets had reacted to the woman's comment.

"I was at a pottery show in Dallas, Texas.." She mumbled. "You can check." With that last statement, everyone knew it was time to go.

"Sweets, what did your shrinky mojo catch?" Booth turned to the young man as soon as they were outside the Reeds house.

"Shrinky mojo? Is that how it works, Agent Booth?" Sweets turned to him, a laughing his tone. Booth nodded, trying to press the young man forward. "She referred to Lance in past tense. She said 'was' and 'loved' like she'd already known he was dead, usually after someone loses a loved one they still refer to them in present tense." His voice was growing more sure as he spoke, and he began sounding less scared. Dr. Brennan smiled, nodding at him, happy that he was becoming himself.

"Good work, Dr. Sweets." She surprised him by patting his shoulder and complimenting him.

"Yeah, just don't call the victim Lance, it's freaky." Booth nodded, turning to the car. Sweets followed after them, pulling himself into the back seat as the two in front buckled up. "I'll look into the pottery thing, maybe we'll find a crack in her story." Booth smiled at his own pun, which only received a collective groan from his two passengers.

"Did you find out anything?" Cam asked immediately as the trio entered the lab. Sweets had to stay near Booth, under the agents own order which he'd made on the ride here.

"Yeah, our vic was a photographer who liked cougars." Booth said back, keeping close to the psychologist out of worry. Cam nodded slowly, not totally understanding.

"I found a few more particulates I've been trying to place and.." Hodgins trailed off as he saw Sweets entering in his suit, a smile on his face. "Our very own junior shrink is back with his shrinky mojo." With that comment Sweets threw his head back, letting out an exasperated groan.

"The particulates, Hodgins?" Bones asked as she swiped her card to walk onto the platform.

"Right..as I was saying, I haven't found out where they're from. They have clay makeup, but also some other stuff." He continued as he ran down the stairs, going back to his lab.

"Hey cutie, I see you've got yourself all therapisted up." Angela giggled as she saw Sweets who just shook his head, throwing his hands up as he leaned against the railing waiting for Booth. She walked over to him, grinning. "Why are you in the lab, sweetie, don't you like your office anymore?"

"Agent Booth says I have to stay by him, for protective reasons." Sweets sighed, pushing his weight against the railing.

"Hell of a good reason to me, Sweets." Angela spoke, her voice becoming a bit more serious.

"I'm fine, really. You all worry too much." Sweets smiled at her, trying to reassure her.

"We worry cause your our baby." She said, pinching his cheek. She changed her voice pitch to match a woman speaking to a baby's. He pulled away, rubbing his cheek, he couldn't keep himself from smiling. "We care about you, Sweets." He felt his breath halt for a moment, and a smile spread over his face. Angela saw but chose not to comment, she knew that's some truth he needed to hear. That's where she left it as she walked, a jump in her step, back to her office.

…

**Next up, we find ourselves some suspects! Yay!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Suspects! Yay, and lets take a twist or seven also -insert an evil author grin here-**

…**.**

Booth walked into the interrogation room where a man sat. The man was short, stocky, with thinning brown hair, his eyes were dark brown, nearly black, and they darted around nervously. His hands were thick with sweat as he focused his look up to the brutish agent. Sweets and Brennan stood behind the one way glass, ready to give the Agent any tips. "So, do you know Lance Reed?" Booth pulled the steel chair out slowly, keeping his dark eyes on the nervous man.

"Wait this isn't about those illegal pict-" The man shut his mouth suddenly as Booth raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes, he worked for me. He took pictures for magazines and billboards." Booth leaned forward, trying to edge the man to go on. "I don't think I should say much more."

"Probably not, Mr. Spyke. Though, I could_ think _about not telling anyone about those illegal photo's if you tell me more about Mr. Reed." The agent leaned his elbows on the cold table, using his size to intimidate the small man.

"Do you know him?" Brenna whispered to Sweets, as they watched the interrogation. Lance jumped, he had been lost in thought and her words had brought him back with a fright.

"No, but he's nervous. See how he rubs his knuckles one by one, he's been doing that since Booth brought up Lance." The psychologist motioned towards the little mans chubbys fingers as the pushed against one another nervously.

"Booth was right, it's uncomfortable when you call the victim by his name." She looked up at the psychologist, nodding. "Because your name is Lance and his name was Lance, and you both looked so much alike and…"

"Yeah, I got it…" Sweets' tone wasn't rude, but it cut the anthropologists words short. He turned his gaze back to the interrogation and leaned forward, pressing the button so Booth could hear him. "Agent Booth, Mr. Spyke is very nervous about something. Start to question his relationship with Lan- our victim." As Sweets spoke the man turned, glaring harshly with is deep eyes.

"Yeah, I got that." Booth whispered in a vicious tone.

"Perhaps, the suspect is just nervous because of his illegal photos." Brennan added, she had that suspicious tone and a smirk was on her face. She glanced up, her bangs falling over the her eyes softly.

"No, you see while he was nervous when Agent Booth first came in he was nervous yes, but when he said out victims name he began fidgeting. I believe he feels guilty over something." Sweets crossed his arms, then uncrossed them again motioning to the small man in the chair across from Booth. Brennan nodded, she didn't want to push it with Sweets after all he'd been through.

"So, Mr. Spyke." booth said with an edge, attempting to cause the two behind the mirror to hush. "How was your relationship with Lance Reed?" Booth spoke with a commanding tone as he pulled out a notebook and a pencil, prepared to write.

"He had been a friend.." The man spoke slowly, trying to see what the agents was scribbling down. "But we had gotten into a fight. He quit sometime in November, what are you writing?"

"Oh nothing." Booth turned his eyes up and smiled, "What did you fight about?"

"Just work stuff, you know the usual." The man rambled, quickly his worry was growing, Booth could hear it in his tone.

"There's nothing 'usual' when a man gets murdered, Mr. Spyke." Booth growled in a low tone, the man nodded furiously.

"Right yeah, of course.." He pawed the back of his neck, sinking into his chair. "I said his pictures were dull, they'd lost all that '20-year-old-drunk-on-love' as he'd called it…." He trailed off.

"So you fought about.." Booth raised his eyebrow. "Dull pictures?"

"No..well...yes, but he was killing my_ business_!" The man argued, desperation flooding his voice.

"He's hiding something, Agent Booth." Sweets spoke into the microphone and Booth gave a subtle thumbs up. Brennan stared at the young psychologist, wondering what he'd seen.

"But..there's something else, isn't there?" Booth leaned forward, staring directly into the mans eyes. Spyke couldn't meet his gaze, he simply nodded.

"Yes.." His voice was tired, worried, scared. "Darla and I..we were…" The man huffed, turning his body to face the agent, he clasped his hands together. His face dripped sweat and his ebony eyes were small, and squinty. "We had a relationship."

"Sexual?" The agent asked, again dumbfounded. How could a 50-some year old woman want this guy over some energetic 20 year old.

"Yes..after all she's 57! The kid was only 25! I mean for gods sake, that was ridiculous!" The man's voice was rising, his defense gathering. "He'd sleep with woman after woman, leaving Darla hung out to dry. She needed someone who loved her….I loved her." His voice was soft with his last words.

"Hm..where were you December 5th, Mr. Spyke?" Booth nodded, beginning to doubt this man had anything to do with the murderer.

"I-in Dallas, Darla had this pottery meeting and I went with her...so we could have some time together." He slumped backwards, his face crumpled. "Maybe if I'd stayed Lance wouldn't be dead.." With those words, Booth stood. He walked to the thick door in the wall, pulling it open he turned back.

"It's not your fault." Booth said simply, and turned his back as the thick man began to weep. He met his partner and Sweets outside the interrogation room. "This whole marrying a 50 year old woman thing...it's crazy."

"Not really, Some sociologists are talking about 'marriage squeeze'—the fact that single, middle-aged women have a shrinking pool of potential conventional partners and are compelled to seek alternative arrangements." Sweets expanded to his unamused audience. "It's actually growing in popularity as a type of relationship." He pushed his hands in his pockets, looking at Booth for a reaction.

"Doesn't mean it isn't totally disgusting! I mean these woman taking advantage of kids your age is just wrong!" Booth shot back, his eyes looking behind him at the young doctor.

"Hm..interesting." Sweets mumbled to himself, receiving a groan from Booth.

"Anthropologically speaking it's not completely strange to think.." Booth pushed his finger to Brennans lips, and another finger to his own. He let his hands fall then pointed to the door leading to Dr. Sweets' office. Sweets leaned forward, nodding but confused.

"Why are we being quiet?" He whispered the question, looking between the two. Booth shot a quick glare and turned towards the door. "Who is in my office?" Booth pushed Sweets' face back with his palm, glaring once again. Putting his hand to his hip, ready to pull his gun, he pushed the door open with a slam.

"FBI, hands up where I can see 'em!" Booth shouted, and a figure dressed all in black turned abruptly, dropping the suspect files that were on Sweets' desk. The figure pushed their hands to the air, shaking their head violently.

"Please don't shoot!" A woman's voice called from behind the mask, and Booth recognized it immediately. "I'm sorry"

"Darla Reed?" Booth lowered his gun, and started to pull his handcuffs from his belt. The figure approached him slowly, and he saw no weapon. He slid his gun back into it's holster and began his speech. "Darla Reed you are under arrest for breaking and entering into a federal building. You have the right to rem-" Suddenly the woman made a break for it, cutting past the Agent. "Hey,get her!" He called, causing Dr. Sweets to turn from his conversation with .

"Ahhh!" The psychologist yelped as the woman, who had turned towards Booth as he yelled, turned back to slowly and slammed into him. Her thin body hit his with a violent 'crack', his rib injuries causing a searing pain. Brennan covered her mouth, her eyes wide. "Oh..my...OUCH!" Sweets hollered as Booth ran over, pulling the woman to her feet.

"Nice catch, Sweets." Booth laughed down at him, forgetting his rib injuries. Sweets raised his hand, giving a thumbs up.

"I think she knocked my shoulder back out of socket…" The heep on the floor grumbled as he curled his knees to his chest, groaning deeply.

"I think we should bring him to a doctor, with his rib injuries from the beating this could be serious." Brennan said, bending down beside the young man.

"No, no I'm good.." He tried to push himself up with his good arm, a surge of scarlett pain rocketed through his body. He fell back to his elbow, the hurricane of agony subsiding.

"You most certainly are _not_!" Brennan pushed Sweets back onto the ground, fear written on her face.

"Well if you insist…" He complied, thought he already wanted a painkiller. His ribs pounded, feeling red hot with every breath.

"Lets drive him to the ER." Booth said, pushing the widow to an agent standing off to the side in the circle that was sprouting around them. "We will deal with you later." He hissed at her as the agent brought her towards the interrogation room. Booth pulled Lance to his feet, and pulled the young mans good arm over his own broad shoulders. Brennan lifted his hurt arm gently and draped over her own shoulders. Slowly they began to drag the injured heap of a man to the elevator.

The partners pushed the injured man into the car as gently as possible, the pain causing him to slip in and out of consciousness. "Thanks guys..you two are so nice to me." Sweets' tone was slurred, almost drunken.

"It's the pain, it's causing a drunk like effect on him because of the lack of edrenalin." Brennan explained as they slid into their seats. "What if he broke a rib, Booth?" Her tone was thick, worried, and her eyes told the agent she was near tears.

"He'll be fine, our boys a fighter." Booth kept his tone light, and cheerful as he laid a hand on Temperance's shoulder.

"Oh hell yeah I am, I'm in fight club!" Came a weak, slurring voice from the back. The two turned around, their moment broken by the craziness in Sweets' voice. They both looked at him questionably, but he wagged a finger at them. "First rule though guys, I can't talk about fight club." He giggled sleepily, letting himself slip away into the black bliss that is unconsciousness.

"Now… I'm worried." Booth announced, pushing the car into gear.

…

**Fight club! Oh hell yeah, some of you might not get that..Google it? I'm sorry….I didn't do that so well. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Okay, this is going to be a long one guys! Buckle in, ignore the typos, let us take a ride!**

…**.**

Booth held Brennans hand as they sat in a waiting room that smelled of antibiotics, around seventeen cleaning agents, and sickness. Booth tapped his shiney, standard issue shoes against the pearl floor as Brennan hummed to herself, a quick and worried song. "It's irrational to be this worried for him, I mean it's highly unlikely any injuries would be permanent or fatal...but, I'm still scared.." Temperance rambled, looking at the wall, almost unaware she was talking.

"It doesn't have to be rational to be worried about Sweet, Bones. He's the youngest, so we've all taken him in as like an orphan puppy. A baby duck, as you put it." Booth answered her worried rambles to inetmanet objects with a soft, clear tone.

"I know we considered him that before Zack, and now after we thought he was dead we redeveloped those feelings, but it doesn't seem fair to act like concerned friends when we drove him to…" Brennan trailed off, staring through the wall, not actually focusing on anything. Her face was warped with the wave of guilt that had crashed into her, coursing through her veins.

"Think about killing himself…" Booth finished for her as she held his hand tighter, and fell back into the chair. All she could do was continue to nod for nearly a minute, tears were nearly spilling from her eyes when the doctor returned.

"Dr. Sweets ribs were bruised and fractured before he came here?" It was rhetorical question, but Booth nodded to the older doctor. "His ribs were pressed further, causing a few more fractures and a lot of pain. His shoulder was also not completely healed, and was pushed from it's socket. I gave him some heavy painkillers, and I wanted him to stay for observation but…" The woman paused, brushing grey strands of hair behind her ear. "He insisted on going back with you, I suggest you keep him near this 'Doc Cam' he was raving about while in a drugged haze."

"Yes..yes of course." Brennan said, brushing the tears out of her eyes. "Do we need to continue giving him the painkillers?"

"I'll send a prescription of Oxycodone with you, give it to him at least twice a day for the next week or so, then as needed until he heals. I'll need to see him back here in a month." The doctor said with a nod, leaving a perscription bag with a bottle inside on the table.

"When will he be able to leave?" Booth called after the woman.

"Whenever he feels like he can stand." She called back, giving a smile over her shoulder. "Room 447, to your left." Booth nodded a silent thank you and pulled Brennan from her chair, rushing her down the hallway.

"443, 444, 445, 446 Ah ha!" Booth stated triumphantly. "447 Bones, we've found him." He said as he tapped the number on the door with his knuckle.

"You sound like you've accomplished something when all you did was count room numbers." She raised her eyebrow the best she could, looking up at the man. He simply sighed, his shoulders slumping forwards.

"Just come on!" He pushed the door open, ushering in his partner.

"Hey, hey! The lovely couple!" Sweets giggled, his voice was flighty, his pitch changed going up and down as he spoke. "Have you come to see my new place? It's nothing much, but I call it home." He continued his laughing, holding his ribs in squinted at the fuzzy figures, a drunken smile on his lips.

"We are not a couple!" Brennan said with a sly grin, as she watched the man began laughing again, shaking his head tears began to bead around his eyes. "I see your pain medicine is working very well."

"You don't have to sound so offended by someone calling us a couple, Bones. We are not a couple though, Sweets, you know that!" Booth looked to the man, who had fallen into what looked like a painful fit of laughter.

"Interesting way to react to that Agent Booth!" Then the young doctor turned his head awkwardly to look at Brennan who was standing near the head of the hospital bed. "Oh yes, the painkillers here a quite nice and they serve them out like pudding, or drugs! Oh wait! They are drugs!" He giggled once again, beginning to feel tired by all his laughing. Booth shook his head, groaning.

"How are we supposed to bring this giggly mess back to the lab?" The Agent whispered to Brennan, shifting his eyes toward the young man who had found a nice bird to stare at. Soon he began to whisper incomprehensible words then another fit of chuckles.

"I'll call that bird Stanley! He will be my friend!" sweets voice was halting, drunken. He sounded worse than in the car. He jabbed his thumb to his chest to emphasize that it was his friend. "Then maybe I'll finally have a best friend….that'd be a first." He blurted out, laughing again.

"Sweets….Lets get you to the lab." Booth said suspiciously, looking the man up and down as he began counting tiles on the ceiling.

"Right-o Agent Booth sir." Sweets said, barely sitting up he gave the man a salute. Booth groaned deeply, walking over he pulled the man up. "Wait..wait..I needa put my slingy thingy back on." Sweets leaned against Booth, muttering this. Brennan picked up a dark blue arm sling and slid Sweet's left arm into it gently, he made a hiss like sound and she snapped it behind his neck. "Thank you, Doctor….you are a wonderful, wonderful woman!" He cooed as Booth slid him off the hospital bed.

"Come one fanboy, she's riding with us." He sneered, amused by the crazy state of his shrink. Sweets smiled delusionally and gave a shaky thumbs up, nodding. "Lets get the loon to the car." He said to Brennan as the psychologists unstable feet touched the floor.

Booth slumped forward, annoyed by the singing in the back of his vehicle when they finally pulled into the parking lot of the Jeffersonian. "Put the lime in the coconut and drink 'em both up! Put..put the lime in the co-co-nuuuuut and drink 'em both up!" Sweets sang in his medicated state, swaying back and forth with a smug grin on his face. Booth pushed the car into a parking spot and jumped from his seat, slamming the door behind him. "Ooh, someone's angry. Look, Agent Booth if you need to talk I've got time. Even with medication I can be helpful!" He grinned pulling himself from the car. Brennan stared at the crazed psychologist, pulling herself from the car as well. Booth tried to help the young man who just waved his arms.

"Fine, lets get you to Cam." Booth snorted as he watched Sweets slip across the ice in a fit of laughter.

"Woah, did you get Sweets drunk on the way back from the FBI?" Hodgins laughed as he stood beside Angela, looking over a photo. Booth sneered at him as he tried to lead the laughing man past them.

"Hodgins you look very nice today, you too Angela!" Sweets called over Booth's shoulder as he pushed him towards cam.

"Pain meds?" Cam asked as she saw the young man staring at the stairs as he stepped on each one gingerly, like he was ready for them to fall through.

"Oxycodone." Booth said as he tossed her the paper bag. "The psycho psychologist is your job now, see ya." He said as he waved to the doctor, who just stared at the man stumbling across the floor. She shook her head, looking at the bag in her hands. Sweets stood up straight and waved to her, the bandages obvious under his poorly buttoned shirt, then promptly fell on his behind.

"So...she broke into Sweets' office because….she didn't want us to suspect her?" Booth asked as he and Brennan stood behind the glass, watching the the woman tap away on the table.

"That is not rational!" Brennan said as she watched the woman put her hair into a ponytail, then take it out again. "I don't understand her reasoning."

"Well lets go in there and fight out, Bones." Booth said with a grin, tapping her shoulder gently with the file. She returned with a smile and followed him into the interrogation room.

"Darla, nice to see you again." Booth smiled politely as he pulled Brennans chair out for her. "Why don't you tell me why you were inside our young doctor's office this morning?" Suddenly Booth looked to Brennan as they both realized they hadn't slept in nearly two days.

"Uh...I..well you see…" She stammered and groaned. "I had some of my past sealed away, and I didn't want it dug up again.."

"You mean the assault and attempted murder of your ex boyfriend...one ." Booth looked up at the woman who nodded slowly.

"The charges were dropped after I explained he'd been beating me at home, but I knew how it would look…" She choked out as tears began to fall. She covered her mouth with her gloved hand, turning her head up to the roof.

"Does it look much better that you broke into a federal building to hide it?" Booth asked, flipping through her file slowly. She just shook her head, letting out a wavering sigh. Suddenly a soft noise of vibrations sounded and Brennan pulled her phone from her pocket. She shook her head as she read the text, and Booth leaned in close. "Is it Sweets?"

"No, it, uhm, it seems that in my distress I missed something. Wendell had to check it over multiple times, he barely noticed and now looking at it I see why. We have to get to the lab." She announced and he nodded, motioning to the people behind the glass to come take the woman to a holding cell. "We will pick this up later, Mrs. Reed."

"So it seems that all the bone damage, the whippings and burning that I thought was post mortem is actually perimortem!" Brennan spoke quickly as Booth pulled out of the parking lot, she sounded happy, which confused him.

"You're not mad Bones?" He looked at her, concerned.

"No, Booth, you see Wendell figured it all out on his own, and I'm proud. It's no wonder I missed it, though as irrational as it was I wasn't concentrating because of Sweets" She looked up at him, a realization crossing her face. "He was drugged, beaten severely, and all injuries were made to match Sweets' exactly." Booth nodded, waiting for ehr to continue. "But he was stabbed with a star from the top of a tree from someone yard and dumped into a ditch?"

"Yeah, that's what happened where are you going with this Bones?.." As soon as he finished his sentence, he became aware. "Wait, the drugging, beating, and all that they were pre planned, but.."

"The stabbing with a star was not planned.." Brennan finished for him.

"So we are looking for two people?!" Booth shouted, and caused the anthropologist to lean backwards as she nodded. "Someone who severely assaulted our victim."

"And someone who killed him." Brennan said ecstatically, looking at her partner as they both began to grin.

…**.**

**So yeah, boom goes the dynamite. Plot twist O.O**


	13. Chapter 13

**Okay guys, the plot twist was just something to keep you on your toes! I know a few people weren't so pleased with it, but I'm not going to apologize for it... I thought it just fit, you know. Please keep reading!**

…**..**

"Wait…" Cam held up her hands, looking at the floor. She was slowly trying to sort through the news she'd just heard, while trying to keep the shrink who was acting like a five year old from hurting himself. "So there are _two_ killers?" The doctor sighed deeply as she watched Lance Sweets 'sneak' up on Wendell, the intern, on all fours.

"No, there is one person who assaulted our victim, and another that killed him." Spoke Brennans disembodied voice from Cams phone that lay in Hodgins hand, they both nodded mumbling a slight 'mhm' as they watched their young intern stare down at the man sitting cross legged on the floor staring up at him.

"Wendell" Sweets drug out his name in a whining, high voice. "I want a sucker!" He huffed at the bewildered man looking down at him, the blonde just shrugged and shook his head. "Your older, so therefor you have to get me one!"

"Your logic is flawed!" called Brennan's voice after Sweets, who didn't notice.

"This is the most odd way I've seen someone come off of a high of painkillers…" Cam trailed off as she watched Lance collapse backwards with an over dramatic sigh.

"I think it's funny.." Hodgins remarked, raising an eyebrow at the young man who'd decided the only way to win this was holding his breath until his face began turning a sickly shade of blue. "Usually he's all composed and official, at least for a 24 year old, or is he 23?"

"I don't actually think we know his birthday." Cam shrugged, making a mental note to give the young man the third degree over the matter.

"Hello?" Brennans voice rose with anger. "We will be there soon so I can look at the bones!" With that came the dull dial tone from the other end.

"Hm...She hung up." Hodgins stated, which earned him a _no-shit-sherlock _glare from his boss. He slipped the phone back into the woman's hand and practically ran off the platform. Pressing her gentle fingers to her forehead, Cam let out a deep sigh as she watched Sweets push himself to his feet and stumble off the platform, then back on. The beepers blared and the medicated man fell over landing on his backside on the stairs. Wendell rushed over and slid his card to end the migraine creating beeping.

"Why can't I use my left arm yet Cam?!" Sweets called a the doctor while he tried, and failed, to pull himself up with only the use of one arm.

"It's healing, it was pushed out of socket twice, or maybe more, in three weeks!" Cam rushed over to stop the man from pulling his arm loose. He whined looking up at her with his coffee brown eyes, tears glazing over them.

"My everything hurts…" He grumbled as she led him to Angela's office, she pushed him down onto the couch as kindly as possible.

"The medicine's wearing off, Sweets. Here, I'll get you some more." She turned to leave, and felt a strong hand grab her wrist. Looking back she saw the man shaking his head slowly.

"No, I need to help with the case. The medicine just makes me crazy.." His voice had began to sound heavy and hurt again, which had drawn the artists attention as she re entered her office.

"Oh, I see our resident therapist has finally come down off his high?" Angela giggled teasingly in her sweet voice.

"Yes, I have.." He gulped down the pain, biting his lip he released Cam's wrist, but she just stared at him.

"You have to take your meds...the pain is too much for anyone to handle." Cam's voice was high with worry, her deep eyes staring at the obviously pain riddled young man before her. She sounded like a concerned mother as she looked upon him, the pain he was feeling obviously growing by the minute.

"I've been through worse…" He croaked out, his voice becoming strangled by the agony. He slid down the back of the couch, squeezing his fist until his palm began to bleed from his fingernails cutting into his skin. Angela's smile fell immediately as the images floated painfully slow across her memory. The whip marks, with blood pouring down a boys back, his white bone practically glowing under the streaks. Bruises across his ribs and waist, cuts all along his thighs, spelling out horrible words. 'Idiot,' 'Worthless', 'Pathetic', and so many more things, worse than she could bring herself to remember. Every bone poking through his skin, his soft curls tangled, and clumped with dirt. She looked at the beaten man before her and saw the same eyes that haunted her. Those kind, soulful eyes, deep in color, pure in intention, sheer genius plainly obvious in the twinkle that shown, but also a secret. A deep, haunting secret that was worse than she could ever imagine.

"There's no reason for you to go through that pain again!" Cam countered his argument with such force that the man looked up at her, startled. "We have medicine, you don't need to feel that way again Lance!" Her voice cracked with tears as she said his name, he stared up at her, completely bewildered.

"Cam, you don't need to feel bad, it's not your fault. Your feeling guilty for no logical reason and-" Sweets began but Cam shook her head as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Don't psychobable me!" Her voice was raised, but not enough anyone outside the room could hear. "You're the one that's hurt! You always try and help us, you try and help everyone, but you keep your feelings all locked up! Your job is about feelings, but you lock yours away! You show us all little emotion, enough to make it seem like you are, but you aren't!" She hissed at the man, who'd leaned back in surprise. Angela stared as her boss broke down in tears. "We care about you, Lance! We all care, we just got so caught up in missing Zack we didn't realise we were hurting you! You should have said something...you don't always have to be hurting, Lance, you don't!" Her face was angry, but her voice was hurt. Angela rushed over and pulled her boss's weeping frame into a hug. Sweets sat there, staring with no words to answer what she'd said. He knew she was right, everything she'd said was true. They sat in silence as the clocked ticked on, Cam had finally managed to halt her tears and now both women stared at Lance.

"I'm sorry?" He managed, looking at them. Both couldn't help but smile at his unsure tone. "You are correct, I've not been sharing anything that I felt. I blocked you all out, and it was unfair." He stated, waiting for their response. He saw it all in their movements. Angela looked away, then back as she twisted her wedding ring. She felt uncomfortable, and wanted to say something but was worried she wouldn't be able to say it right. Cam's jaw clenched, and her eyes narrowed just slightly. She was angry he was doing it again, blocking them out with pretend emotions.

"Hey!" Booth called, and both women walked out quickly, recognizing his tone. Sweets pulled himself up with one aching arm, and stumbled after them. Every step sent a quake through his beaten body. He waited for a guard to swipe a card through before he took each excruciating step to reach the group.

"Yes, I believe that your findings are correct, Wendell." Brennan announced, snapping off her gloves.

"Great, Bones. So now we have to catch some bastard who beat our kid psychologist, and a murderer?" Booth groaned, and received an emotionless nod from Brennan.

"It seems the blow with the star had force, but not as much. Kind of like a reluctant killing?" Brennan questioned, hoping that's how Booth would have put it. He nodded, waiting for her to continue. "The assailant stabbed our victim in the chest, and twisted." Brennan said as she pushed her hand, with an invisible weapon in it, into Wendell's test, then turned her hand slowly. Letting out a breath she turned to her team. "But, that wasn't what killed him."

"What, so he got stabbed and he was just fine?" Angela questioned, staring at her best friend.

"No, it seems that with the stab wound and all the other beatings it probably bled out." Brennan smiled, giving a nod.

"I concur with those findings. The amount of blood in the snow and in the salt is definitely enough to have been lethal." Cam nodded, her arms crossed. None of the team had noticed the man leaning against the edge of the platform, nodding with a smile. He watched as the team began falling back into place, working like the well oiled machine. Turning his gaze down, he let the facts hit him. He wasn't needed, they could solve murders without him. They had solved them before he'd shown up, and if he left they could do it again.

"Oh!" Angela said, looking down at a laptop she was bent over. "It looks like our vic had another job." She smiled, turning to look at the team. "He was taking...let's call 'em exotic pictures of his mistresses and sold them to the horn dogs." She watched as Booth's face lit up with the 'I've got some suspects!' look. He took Brennans hand and he started to pull her away.

"Come on Bones!" He called happily.

"But, Booth, we don't even know who these pictures are of! Or who he sold them to!" Brennans said as she was being pulled away.

"I'll send the list!" Angela called with a grin. Booth turned to Sweets and jerked his head to motion for the man to follow. Sweets complied, though he felt like curling up in a ball and crying. He walked after them, a smile on his face as he watched them argue, turning his head back he stared at the team as they buzzed on to solve the murder. With a painful sigh, he let it sink into his skin, he wasn't needed.

"So we got one of his models in here," Booth said as he pointed to the woman sitting in his interrogation room. Sweets and Brennan nodded, turning their gaze to the woman. She was thin, with obviously fake breasts. She was wearing cut off shorts with a hot pink belt and a button up, white shirt with her pink bra, that Sweets suspected didn't match her belt on coincidence, shown through. She popped a sucker between her blood red lips, and tapped her overly long, manicured nails against the tabletop with agitation. "Hey, Sweets, stop staring and get in there." Booth snapped his fingers, a grin on his face.

"Oh, no no no!" Sweets waved his good arm in front of his face, feeling his cheeks growing pink. "She's obviously someone who likes to dominant, and I'm very bad with those kind of people. They get the better of me, I'm very compliant." As soon as he finished that sentence, he realised how bad it had sounded. Booth cracked a smirk and stared at the embarrassed boy.

"I suspect Booths facial expression is hinting that your sentence was 'kinky'" Brennan stated with that 'I figured something out!' tone. She bent her fingers in air quotes as she said kinky. Then a clicking sound began, and all eyes turned back to the black haired woman as her hot pink heels began tapping against the floor.

"Well, if your gonna whimp out kid.." Booth began, and watched Sweets narrow his eyes to glare as he walked into the room.

"Hello, Ms…?" Sweets began as he entered the room, the woman sat up at the sight of him.

"Names Gloria Livsing, but you should know that Lance.." She kept her voice low and breathy, trying to get the better of him. "Forgot me already? Thought you said I was the best model you'd ever had.." She growled at him, biting her ruby lip.

"My names Dr. Lance Sweets, I apologize I don't think we've met." Sweets kept his voice as even as he could as he took his seat.

"Hm, well no we haven't. Now that I'm really looking, your eyes are so much.." She paused as she slid her heel off and pushed her bare foot up his pant leg. "Mmmm, more dark and thoughtful."

"Right, I need to ask you a few questions about Lance Reed." Sweets continued, pushing all his limits to ignore her sexual advances. He slid a picture over to her and she picked it up gently, bringing it to her view slowly as she pushed his pant leg farther up. He tried to pull his leg away, but she wrapped both feet around it and pulled him closer until his middle hit the table. Slowly she pressed her deep red lips against the photo and dropped it back on the table.

"He took some...revealing pictures of me. Why, is he in trouble?" She leaned close, bending over the table as she released Sweets' leg. "What kind of doctor are you?"

"No, Ms. Livsing, he's dead." He paused, looking directly into her eyes to try and see any change, the woman just raised an eyebrow. "And I'm a psychologist."

"O-ooh! A shrink!" She cooed as she slid her slender finger across his jaw line, he practically fell backwards to attempt to avoid her touch. "Jumpy, cute, and successful. I bet your loads of fun in the sack."

"Yes, I am." He stated simply, startling her and the two behind the mirror. Pulling himself back up straight, he continued."But I have a few questions about Mr. Reed." She nodded, regaining her composure. "How did you come in contact with ?"

"He hit on me at a bar, he looked tasty so we rolled around a bit." She watched the man, waiting for any signal that she could get the better of him, there wasn't one.

"And when did he start to take pictures of you?" Lance said as he opened his notebook, writing down a quick note. She licked her lips, leaning forward to see. He turned his head up and smiled brightly at her. "Ms. Livsing?"

"Right…" She trailed off, trying to catch a glimpse. "Well he called me a week or so after that and asked me if I wanted quick cash. I did, he took some pictures, our last session was November 15th. How accurate is your name, Dr. Sweets?" She rolled the 'r' in his title, causing a shiver to go up his spine.

"November 15th?" He asked, glancing up at her. She nodded and wrote it down. He pushed his chair out with his legs and stood up, gathering the files.

"Oh honey, you look hurt." She nodded towards his sling. "I could make you feel better, but first you gotta answer my question. It's rude not to answer a ladies questions, doc." She smirked, her grey eyes looking him up and down. He leaned on the table on his good elbow, getting close to her face and her eyes widened.

"My name is very, very accurate." He spoke softly, his voice teasing as he looked her over. Giving his own lip a gentle bite, he nodded pushing himself to a standing position. "Good day to you, Gloria Livsing." He nodded and strode out of the room, walking over to the bewildered two behind the one way glass.

"I thought you said you were compliant!" Booth blurted as he watched the young man walk in. He glanced back to the woman who sat in her chair, arms crossed as she put the sucker back in her mouth. She looked defeated, but yet charmed.

"I have no idea what you're talking about Agent Booth, that was a simple interrogation." Sweets grinned, and gave the file back to the Agent who stood in amazement.

"Well, we just knocked another suspect out of the field….Guess we have to go back and question our crafty widow." Booth announced, turning to Sweets. "I guess, I'm going to have to double team her with you." He said it to sound as though he was disappointed, but a smile slid over his face. Sweets gave a small nod, but the empty feeling of not being needed began eating at him again. Booth could have interrogated that woman, he probably would have done it better. Sweets followed after Booth and Brennan, feeling the emptiness inside him begin to grow again.

…

**Oh! What an interesting interrogation! I think we are gonna have to put the team to bed soon, they might pass out.**

**Review?! Please! :-) **


	14. Chapter 14

**We will be ending this off soon! Only about 3 or 4 more chapters! Keep reading, let's catch us a murderer. **

…**.**

"You might be the most interesting widow I have ever met." Booth said as he slapped a file down in front of a broken woman. Her mascara had started to drip down her cheeks, her eyes were dark red and her hair was tangled and matted. She stared up at the agent and Sweets peered around his strong, broad shoulders. He gave a kind, boyish grin and a small wave. She couldn't bare to look at him, so she turned her gaze down. "Want to tell me why a lovely suburb housewife has a file this thick?" Booth said as he pressed a finger onto the file in front of him ,pulling his chair out.

"I have a past, Lance knew that. He had loved me either way." Darla spoke, but the voice was broken a weak.

"Had?" Sweets piped up, he sat nervously beside Booth.

"Yeah, he's dead." She stated simply, which sent suspicion bouncing around the psychologists brain.

"Oh.." Is all he could manage as he stared at the woman who wouldn't meet his eyes. Booth groaned, leaning backwards in the steel chair. "You said that like you've known for more than just two days, Mrs. Reed." He spoke like it was a question, but she turned her eyes up. When she finally took in the young doctor, she sighed, her lip quivering. He was tired, bags under his and the agents eyes. His curls were unbrushed and wavy over his tired eyes.

"You look so much like him, but so different.." She gasped as she brought her shaking hand to her mouth, squeezing her eyes closed. "You're so much stronger, and more mature looking. You both have those boy like curls, and sweet smile with those..those overly pink lips.." Darla's voice broke as her body began to shake with tears.

"You've known…" Sweets kept his voice understanding, simple, pleasant, and Booth blinked at how fatherly the young man beside him sounded. The tearful woman nodded fiercely, pushing both palms over her mouth, tears pouring down her face.

"Y-yes…" She coughed between her tears. "I got a call, it was a man..he was so scary….He said he'd picked up my husband by accident, he wanted to pick up his 'baby son, that he missed so much' as he'd said it. He said he was going to use my husband as a message, he said he was gonna let him live!" She screamed the final words as tears fell over her. Sweets was paralysed, Booth was awe-struck, and Brennan could only stare from behind the glass.

"You think it's your fault." Sweets said, his voice had become that of a emotionless doctor. She nodded, her cries now loud in the room. "It's not. The man who picked up your husband was a monster, plain and simple. He didn't ask for money, he called to torture you. The thing is, he didn't kill your husband." The woman's cries caught in her throat as she stared at the young, composed doctor before her. He linked his fingers and set his hands in the table, looking directly at her. "The real killer is someone your husband knew, he didn't fight them off so he didn't fear them. Do you know someone who had any reason to kill Lance?" He said the man's name without a pause, without a thought.

"Maybe…. he had been selling pictures of young women." She said, trying to control her heavy breathing. "There was one man he'd sold to a lot, a big scary trucker. His name is Ronald Myers." As she finished Sweets wrote down the name, nodding and smiling at the woman.

"Thank you, Darla." He said gently, patting her hand as he stood up. "I'm sorry for your loss." She stared up at him, nodding slowly. Booth nearly jumped from his chair and followed Sweets out of the room.

"Wow, this'll be the first and last time I say this." He grabbed Sweets good shoulder, turning him towards him. "Thanks for jacking my interrogation, Sweets!" Lance managed a smile and nod, and Booth was about to open his mouth to ask him if he was okay when Brennan ran over.

"Booth, Dr. Sweets!" She called waving her hands, Booth nodded as she made her way over. "Ronald Myers was on Angela's list. Lets bring him in!" She smiled, looking at Booth who sighed and draped his arm over her shoulders.

"Okay Bones, you and me. We will take this one!" He said pointing to him and then her with a grin. "After we go get some sleep. I'll get a bolo out and you and me will get some sleep." Sweets pushed his good hand into his pocket and nodded as they walked past him, talking over interrogation techniques. Sweets slipped into his office and began pulling the files together with one hand. He set the jumbled pile onto his desk and fell backwards into his large chair, across from the couch where his patients sat. His head fell backwards as he looked at his roof. His body was heavy with the aching need to sleep, but his mind was unraveling.

"What if Tucker really is coming for me?" He whispered to the empty room ,waiting for his late adoptive mothers gently voice to reach over the barrier of death. He sat there, listening to the clock tick away as he waited for ehr to tell him. He stood and walked circles around his desk before noticing a not stuck under the mouse of his computer. Bending over he pulled it out quickly. In vicious cursive spread over the envelope were the words _'My brilliant son, Lance Shannon.' _A scream caught in the man's throat, he should have left it and called the team, but they were all asleep. Booth had called and told them to 'stop before they drop' as he had said. With a shaking head he slowly pulled the letter open, waiting for it to be a bomb or something. A bone breaking fear consumed him as he slid the folded paper from inside the envelope out. He stared at it, his entire mind thrumming. Black was framing his vision, flashing reds and blues threatening to take him into the silence of passing out.

_Dear Lance Shannon,_

_No, your name is not Lance Sweets. You are my son, not those old bags'! I really do love you, I just get angry sometimes. I think after this is all over I'm gonna come get you and take you far away, and we will be a happy family. When this happens, my son, I will have to punish you sometimes, but that's only because you deserve it. You know deep down you deserve it, I know you do. It's really all your fault, and that's why I'm going to have to find you and give you a good punishment. You did put me in jail, you know you deserve it Lance, it's the truth. I'm only teaching you how to act, really, you need to learn. You know this is true, so why don't you just come back to me? You love me, I love you we should be a family. Even if you don't come to me because those scientists brain washed you, I will come get you. When I get you, you will see that I'm the only person you need. We will be father and son, the best of friends. Everything those adoptive 'parents' of yours said about me was a lie, you deserved what I did. I love you! Really, Lance, and I'm going to come and get you and we will be a true family. I can't wait, just don't fight me or I'll have to hit you again._

_I love you,_

_Your father,_

_Tucker F. Shannon._

Sweets was hyperventilating, he re read the note fifteen times. Had he deserved it? No, no he couldn't have. But yet, everytime he'd been beaten it was because he'd done something. Lance began shaking his head uncontrollably, his hands shaking as the note slowly floated to the ground, landing on his shoe. Every memory of his childhood invaded his mind, the wall he'd spent his life building entire body was shaking, he was sweating and he couldn't tell if he was crying or not. He fell backwards, not even making an effort to catch himself as he hit the floor. His phone rang, it was Booth calling, but he couldn't move to pick it up. He was leaning against the wall, his body burning. His scars felt new on his back, and he couldn't keep his breathing even. His head felt light and his body was going limp. Booths voicemail played aloud in the silent room.

"Hey, Sweets! Answer your phone, kid! Well anyways, we got a hit on Myers credit card. It just so happens that the man had bought two coffees at the dinner near the body. He's looking good for this, the teams going to sleep and Bones and I are hittin' the sack to. Get some sleep kid, we will be looking for Myers tomorrow. See ya in the office." The the dial line went flat, and the only sound was Sweets desperate breathing. He would be in the office tomorrow, because there was no way he would be able to move. Every injury in his body oozed pain, and his lungs were burning. Slowly the minutes ticked away and his panicked body fell into an uncomfortable, nightmare invested, painful sleep.

It was 7 am. Lance Sweets was still on his floor, he'd pulled his suit jacket off just before the terror of what some would call sleep fell over him. He finally had control over his aching muscle, the position in which he fell asleep did not help him at all. He'd been leaning against the wall with his good shoulder, his head pushed against it as a way to try and block out his thoughts. One leg was pulled up while the other sprawled across the floor, and his muscles felt like they'd been torn. He pushed himself up and stretched out his legs, then the horrifying note brushed his ankle. He clasped his good hand over his mouth in an effort to not scream. Pulling the note into his hand he refolded it and stuck it into the envelope. Giving a groan he pulled himself onto aching legs and pulled his bottom desk drawer open. When he'd buried himself in his work, he'd occasionally fall asleep in the office so he had a spare suit, and spare casual clothes tucked inside. He was reaching for the suit when his body halted, he couldn't put it on. He didn't want to try, so instead he pulled jeans, a black shirt with the band 'Slayer' across the chest, it looked like it'd been carved into it, he also snatched a jean jacket from within the drawer and pulled his black converse from inside another drawer. He changed his clothes quickly, and painfully put the sling back on his arm.

Cam, Hodgins, and Brennan were to busy up on the platform to notice him entering. He felt his body shake with each step as he neared Angela's office, he heard her tired, sweet voice in conversation with Booths deep, commanding voice. They were looking for Myers. Suddenly, some unknown voice commanded that Sweets keep his secret. The voice he'd listened to every time anyone asked about his past, so instead of doing what he'd planned and giving them the note, he did something completely stupid. He shoved the envelope in his back pocket and continued to walk towards Angela's office, gaining control of his breathing. "Hey, Agent Booth. Did you find Myers?" His voice came with overwhelming cheerfulness, Booth noticed the act the psychologist was putting on immediately.

"No. Why do you sound like you just rode in on a unicorn from Rainbow land?" Booth turned his broad figure towards the young man, crossing his arms. He was taken back but what the man was wearing for just a moment, but remained looking like a scary bouncer.

"Uhm, I...I'm just happy.." Sweets said, still overly cheerful. This time Angela turned, putting her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow.

"Look, sweetie, you're not fooling anyone. Especially not when you dress like.." She pointed a finger up and down the young man. "Like some angry rebellious 16 year old."

"I'm not dressed like.." Sweets paused, looking down at his outfit, pulling the sling hanging on his neck he cleared his throat. "Okay, maybe I am dressed a little strangely but that doesn't mean…" He was caught off by Angela's computer, which had began beeping.

"We got Myers!" She announced, but Booth was already scribbling down an address on his note pad.

"Lets go get 'em Bones!" He called as he rushed out of the room, leaving Angela to stare at Sweets until he felt uncomfortable and scurried out of her office.

"Ronald Myers?" Booth boomed through a bar, his voice making the man before him to drop his beer. He rested his large palm on the drunk mans shoulder. "You're under arrest for the murder of Lance Reed."

A man who neared Booths height sat uncomfortably on a steel chair. A plaid button up was stretched over his over sized muscles and his jaw clenched as he looked around dumbly, in a tipsy state. His jeans had tears biggers then Brennans head at the knees and his thighs looked like they were made of steel wire. He tapped a beefy hand on the table as he chewed on a toothpick and glared at the wall. "Isn't he just the poster boy for scary semi truck drivers…" Sweets trailed off as he stared at the man. Booth had refused to let him join Bones and he, on account he looked like a highschooler.

"I don't know what that means.." Brennan looked to Sweets who had his good hand in his back pocket where the letter sat, she narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"It means he's scary,Bones." Booth spoke up while flipping the pages in the file. "Come on, let's go see if he'd our guy."

"Hello Mr. Myers." smiled Brennan, a perfectly innocent tone had taken in her voice. Booth shook his head as he pulled her chair out.

"Ooh, a pretty lady. You don't look like much of a cop, though gorgeous." His voice was grizzly, and gravely from smoking.

"I'm an anthropologist." She explained, which just got her a dumbfounded look of confusion. "I study the human skeleton." The man nodded, turning his eyes up to glare at Booth.

"Mr. Myers.." He said as he slapped the file down loudly, angered by the man hitting on Brennan. "You know Lance Reed?" He paused, and the man gave him the same confused look. "The man who sold you pictures of women."

"Well shoot, yeah 'course I know him!" The man said, leaning back in his chair. "One of those, mhm, lovely women suing him or somethin'?" .

"Nah, man, he's dead." Booth grinned, and suddenly the man sitting in front of him just lost all his marbles. He began howling and crying like a baby.

"Booth, I don't think he killed our victim." Brennan said as she stared at the tearful man before her, his giant body shaking with loud tears.

…**..**

**And, there you have it. All Scary mental images of truck drivers forever broken. **


	15. Chapter 15

**Well, there were SO MANY D*** TYPOS IN THAT LAST CHAPTER. I am so sorry.**

…**.**

Sweets stared into the interrogation room as a baffled agent Booth hugged a giant man who cried into his suit. Brennan rubbed the large mans back while making a 'shhing' sound. Booth looked to the mirror with wide eyes, trying to make Sweets come into the room. He set his jacket down and walked into the room. "Hello, Mr. Myers." He spoke in his cheerful voice, and Booth glared. The grizzly man turned around and just stared. "I'm Dr. Lance Sweets, I'm here to talk to you about the way your feeling."

"You're a doctor?" Was the weeping mans response. Sweets had to bite his tongue, literally, not to yell. He was so tired of that response. His anger must have been obvious, because Agent Booth released the man and walked to Sweets.

"Sweets, don't punch him." Booth whispered with a sly grin. Sweets nodded and the man just stared.

"You ain't no older than little Lancey, the boy who sold me pictures." The man continued to stare, amazed by how similar the two looked and the fact he was a doctor.

"I'm actually younger than Mr. Reed. Yes, I am a doctor. Now, I think we need to talk." Sweets shook his head, taking a deep breath. "We need your help to solve this murder." At those words the man fell into another fit of body shaking tears. Sweets walked around the table and laid his hand on the mans shoulder, leaning forward he whispered. "It's hard, Ron, I know. You have to help us, for Lance." The man nodded, still tears dripped down his cheeks.

"I-I..can't...can't s-st-stop!" He howled as a new flash of tears hit him. Sweets looked over his shoulder at the partners standing on the other side of the table and let out a sigh, feeling embarrassed. The lyrics of that song he'd heard those so many weeks ago were stuck in his head. Temporary home by: Carrie Underwood, that was what it was called. Taking a deep breath, Sweets began to sing. His voice gentle, beautiful, yet strong and pained. It sent shivers across Booths skin and Brennan just stared.

"Little boy, six years old

A little too used to being alone

Another new mom and dad

Another school, another house that will never be home

When people ask him how he likes this place

He looks up and says with a smile upon his face

This is my temporary home, it's not where I belong

Windows and rooms that I'm passing through

This is just a stop on the way to where I'm going

I'm not afraid because I know

This is my temporary home"

He finished there, and the mans tears had stopped as he stared in amazement at the young man. The ring of his voice through the room. The strong lyrics brought tears to his eyes, but he shook his head as a blush splattered over his cheeks. "Can you think of anyone who wanted to hurt Lance?" He whispered to the man who nodded, pushing the cheers from his cheeks.

"Yes, Gloria Livsing. She came by when he was sellin' me some of the pretties and got all up in his grill. Said somethin' 'bout how he had to love her, she bein' the only girl for him." He finished, his voice still shaky. Sweets nodded, giving his child like grin he stood up and turned to Booth.

"Let's go get her.." Booth said, still transfixed on Sweets by his beautiful voice.

"Gloria, now why didn't you tell that you loved Lance Reed? That's just cruel." Booth smirked as he walked into the room.

"He wasn't much of a taker, he's more of those cute guys with the horrible pasts. They are high maintenance." Gloria hissed back, looking over her nails.

"You have no idea." Booth replied, slamming her file down so hard she jumped. Sweets looked away, covering his mouth with his hand. Brennan turned to him, putting a hand on his shoulder but he pulled away. She wasn't offended, she could see the way he looked, he was broken. Sweets looked off into the wall, thinking what she'd said. He was high maintenance, maybe that's why Daisy had to go to Maluko. Maybe he was just too much for her to handle, and for the five hundredth time in those past three days he felt like crawling under a table and crying.

"So, why am I back here?" She popped her gum, winking at the Agent. "You're a big, buff protective guy. Not my type, but if ya want I could give ya a spin.." She grinned, he lips a sparkling pink today. She wore a black tank top with blue lace around the scoop neck and the bottom part. She had a tight jean skirt on and her dark hair was in a tight bun.

"No, I'm really not into porn models." He snapped, his voice harsh. Her bubble gum popped and she stared at him, slack jawed. "Tell me, December 5th whose bed were you in?" Booth had lost his patience and he really didn't like the way she'd talked about Sweets.

"I..I was.." She coughed, swallowing her gum accidently. Shaking her head she twisted a loose piece of hair around her finger. "Where was I?" At those words, Sweets snapped around to look at her. "Oh, handsome. I don't recall." Sweets narrowed his eyes at the woman, as she cleared her throat.

"Don't bullshit me, I've lost all my patience." Booth growled, and the woman blinked innocently.

"Basically, I was partying with.." She smiled like an angel and glanced over at the mirror. "With my girlfriend, Becca at her place." She grinned, and Booth sighed in exasperation.

"No, you weren't." Sweets announced as he slipped into the room ,the woman dumbfounded at how good he looked in jeans. "Don't try and lie, Gloria. I'm trained in spotting a liar." He glared at her, and she twisted in her chair. Under his unforgiving gaze she broke, her face falling. "Did you kill him?"

"Yes..no...kind of!" She announced, throwing her hands up, she looked at the man. Booth turned his gaze to Sweets and found himself feeling slightly threatened by the look on the mans face.

"Kind of?" Sweets barked at her, and she jumped biting her lip. Tears began to fill her stormy eyes as she turned away from him.

"Becca was a model to, we both were in love with him!" She cried, pushing her eyes with her palms. "We saw him so hurt stumbling through the street, we wanted to help him. He smacked her and then came back and backhanded me!" She pleaded, but Sweets stood stock still his shoulder hunched as he leaned against the back wall. His arm was still in the sling and the other in his pocket. She met his eyes and a fierce anger greeted her. "He called us whores, said he wanted his wife! We broke! We...we just…." She cried out letting her head fall onto the steel of the table.

"You what?" Sweets growled, his voice deep and slow. Brennan took a step back because she found herself irrationally scared by his tone.

"I grabbed the star off the tree and told him if he didn't shut his trap I'd stab him!" Gloria's eyeliner streaked her face in thick black lines. "Becca got pissed, and took the star. He came at us, but he was all beaten up and we freaked! We had both been holding the star and we held it up in defense and he, like, impaled himself or whatever." She turned her eyes up, and Sweets pushed off the wall his gaze looking down on her. "How'd you know I-I was lying?..."

"He's kind of a genius." Booth announced as he pulled the confession slip from the file and pushed it to the mess of a woman. Sweets walked to his office, every part of him filled with anger. Booth had called D.C police and they were bringing in Rebecca Shambia. The whole case as almost over with but Sweets still felt helpless, and he slammed the door to his office. A rush of pain,anger,hurt, betrayal,guilt, and all his locked up emotions came flooding out. He ripped off his sling and pulled his arms across his desk, sending files flying everywhere. He collapsed onto his couch as he watched a cup balance on the edge of the table. Lance watched as it tumbled over, the water covering the side. It fell in a puddle as the cup hit the rug with a horrible sound. It shattered across his carpet and water soaked a circle around it and into a few of his thrown papers. Sweets felt like he was that cup, and his feelings were that water. He'd balanced on the edge for so long and now suddenly it came crashing down, and he had shattered. Lance slipped off the couch, pushing himself up with both arms he felt a sickly pain shoot across his shoulders. He began to pick pieces of the shattered cup up, and he felt scratch after gash form on his palms. His hands were dripping a perfect ruby, the color sparkled in the light of his office. It reminded him of when he was a teenager, how he'd brought that blade across his arm so many times in attempts to control his pain. He watched the blood form domes and drip down his palms, he remembered this pain from when he'd mutilated himself as a child. Pressing his palms together, Lance welcomed the pain as it put his brain back together he felt blood leaking down his arms. He closed his eyes, sitting there with hands dripping blood, wishing someone would come in and tell him to stop. That's exactly when Booth and Brennan walked in, and they stood frozen staring at him. His chair had been pushing to the wall and papers lie everywhere. Broken glass glinted in the light before the man sitting on his knees, water being absorbed by the papers.

"Sweets?" Booth called, but it sounded far off to the young man, so far away like a ghost calling his name. "Lance!" Booth said, worry evident in his tone. That's when Brennan screamed. She saw blood dripping from his hands onto his pants, she watched the jeans fabric absorb each cruel drop.

"Lance Sweets!" She called as she fell onto him ,wrapping her arms around him. His eyes flew open as he let his hands fall apart. Tears swam in his eyes. "His hands Booth…" She whispered and Booth just looked at the man before him, so broken and hurt. He saw something that made him feel like puking, he saw the thin, pink scars across Sweets' arms. They were barely there, but he could see the in the light. He could see how the blood moved around them as it leaked from his hands, and Booth picked up the trash can. Brennan bolted up and rubbed the man's back as he lost his lunch there, but Sweets never moved. He stared at the blood on his hands and didn't speak. Brennan shook his shoulders, not caring about how he'd hurt them.

"A wretched soul, bruised with adversity,We bid be quiet when we hear it cry; but were we burdened with like weight of pain, as much or more we should ourselves complain." Is all sweets spoke, a shakespearean quote, Brennan knew that. She couldn't bare to hear it, so she held her breath, closed her eyes and pressed her hand against one of his most injured ribs. He let out a scream and suddenly he came back to the world, he looked down at his hands and his eyes went wide. "Ouch! Owwie, ouch owww!" He grimaced as he turned to Booth, blowing on his hands. "Did...did you puke agent Booth?" He raised an eyebrow, looking like a confused, innocent puppy.

"Are you serious?" Booth growled, and Sweets inched backwards, still holding his hand out in pain.

"Come on, lets go get Cam to wrap your hands." Brennan said as she pushed her partner up and tried to help Sweets, who insisted that the must pick up the cup.

"No, you OCD freak. Do that later! Let's go, just don't bleed all over my car!" Booth shouted as they headed towards the elevator. They mounted the elevator along side a bewildered visiting lawyer. The small man stared at the sickly looking brute with a loose and side ways tie who stood beside a perfectly composed woman who looked like she belongs in Britain. He stumbled off the elevator two floors early in confusion as he stared at the teenage looking guy who had a huge cut through his right palm, and a few minor puncture wounds on his left palm and fingers.

They sat on the second floor ,everyone feeling like they hadn't really solved a crime. Sweets sat, disconnected from the rest of the group who was making small talk. He pressed the bandage over his right hand absent mindedly when Booth felt like he had to confront him.

"Sweets.." Booths voice was quiet, solemn, and kind of scary. Sweets snapped his head towards the man and smiled. "I puked in your office because...well..I.." Brennan rested a hand on her partners knee encouragingly. "On your arms I saw.." But with those words Sweets went pale, staring at the man.

"No...no you didn't…" Sweets whispered as he pulled his jean jacket on, everyone was staring at him.

"Yes, I did." Booth countered, looking at him. Sweets just shook his head and stood up, he started running. He always ran, always. He never stopped running he realised as he raced out of the lab. Booth just sat there, not ready to move. Everyone was a bit confused, and staring at him. "Scars. On his arms, I saw scars. The kind you can only get from doing it to yourself…" And everyone sat there. No one spoke, everyone was raw inside. Every time, every damn time they thought it was done yet another heart breaking secret of Sweets was revealed. Angela looked to where he had been sitting and saw an envelope. She pulled it open and read it, her eyes growing wider.

"Oh _God!" _She screamed, holding the note to Booth with a shaking hand. Tears filled her scared eyes. Booth shook his head as he read it over, Brennan reading over his shoulder. Cam took the note when they were done and she and Hodgins looked it over, there faces becoming ghostly.

"Dear Lance Shannon.." Hodgins voice was crushed, and in pain.

"He's going to get him, guys we have to go! Now we have to go save Sweets!" Angela cried out, bringing everyone to their feet. Booth lead the group, who all jumped into his car.

"Dammit, Sweets, you're going to kill me yet!" He growled as he turned his car on, driving straight for Sweets' apartment.

…**.**

**And there we have it a murderer! Go team!**

**Note: Any religious people, sorry for saying God….I capitalized the 'G' for you...xD**


	16. Chapter 16

**Take note YOU must listen to John Francis Daley's (Dr. Lance Sweets' actor's) Band it's called Dayplayer and it's epic. He can really sing, which you probably know from the season 4's finale: The end in the beginning. **_**This band is so amazing you will probably love it unless you're into like screamy yelling metal music, or like old country. With the bango and stuff, then this isn't for you.**_

**Thanks for reading this far! Review this please! **

…**.**

Dr. Lance Sweets was experiencing severe Déjà vu. His torn up old black converse beating against the pavement, it was colder now than it was those torturous three weeks past. Snow was caught in his dark hair, seeping into his scalp. His tears were frozen against burning cheeks, and melting snow caught in his eye lashes. The night was dark, stars drowned out by the beating lights of the city. His breath curled from his dark pink lips, every part of his body sore. His hands thrummed with pain, and every nerve in his 6 foot frame was screaming for him to stop running. Never had his body told him to stop running, it always told him to flee. This time it begged for him to stop, every freezing, painful inch of his body wept for him to stop, but he ran. Lance's throat was frozen as he sucked in the falling snow, christmas lights flashed across his vision. Every part of the city seemed stuck in a spiral of holiday joy, and it disgusted Sweets. He hated the feeling in his gut, it was a terrible, dark feeling but it was there. He wanted everyone else to stop showing how happy they were, he hated it! He wanted to push everyone's happiness down their throats and lock himself away in that dark closet from when he was a boy. His entire life was a wreck. A beaten boy, unwanted, uncared for, looked on with pity and hate. An overly smart teen who hadn't quite hit puberty, stared at like he was an enemy. A short, quiet, and socially awkward 14 year old in college, everyones eyes were down on him, expecting so much but wanting so little. Then he was a 22 year old doctor who was also an orphan that had been thrown into the FBI and put through yet another hell. Everyone he worked with was confused, and almost repelled by how young he was; everytime he spoke one certain anthropologist always decided he was just guessing and a burley agent always stood by her. He finally felt like he belonged, in a group of people almost as different as he. These memories flashed across his vision as he turned down the streets, heading to his apartment. He halted as the next wave came, he stood on a sheet of ice looking up into the swirling snow that stung his eyes. Then one man did one stupid thing, and that one thing happened to tip Sweets precariously balanced world into darkness. Zach hurt the team, and instead of considering how he'd felt, instead of talking they cut him out. No, they didn't cut him out. They tore him out, slowly and painfully, stepping on him after they ripped apart his precious world! Slowly Daisy had slipped inside his protected walls, made him feel again. She pushed down his barriers and the team began to tolerate him again. Then Daisy left, and he ran, like he always did. He hid himself away, refusing to see anything that could bring her memory she was back, along with her memory, and he wanted her. He did, but even now as they were together he wasn't letting her in as he had before. Dr. Lance Sweets, the brilliant psychologist was doing what he always told his patients not to, he was hiding. He was locking everyone out, just barely giving them a taste of who he was. He only did it to keep them at bay, to keep their questions away. Suddenly all of his protection disappeared, all his knights ran, and his army was crushed. Nearly all his secrets, the ones he'd kept so carefully, were out. They all knew now, his past, all his scars the ones put on him and the ones he drew on himself. His crushing depression, and life ending thoughts. Almost all the secrets were floating away, and he couldn't catch them. Lance's secrets were like those balloons at the carnivals, the ones little children let go of, that float into the sky like thrown confetti. Those children's parents grab at the balloons desperately, but they float away. They were out, and the world could see those colorful dots. Shaking his head, the psychologist pressed his lips together, he was sewing himself back up, he was never going to break again. He was alone, he was always alone and looking into that swirling snow he became aware of how used to it he was, he realised he made himself alone and that gave him a bitter joy. Lance walked forward, his hand in his pockets, all his tears ran out. His throat was burning from the cold and his hands were shaking with pain and the freezing snow in his bandages. Making his way around the corner, he walked towards his apartment, failing to notice the FBI car slowly covering in snow parked in the corner of the parking lot.

"What the hell are we gonna say to him?" Hodgins whispered frantically, sitting on Lance's couch, his arm hugging his wife a bit too tightly. "'Oh, hey Sweets. We broke into your apartment because we were scared you're evil foster father was gonna take you far away. How was your walk home?'"

"Something like that.." Booth replied, walking back and forth in front of the door. Slowly he heard the key 'click' the door unlocked, because he'd relocked it when the team had entered. The steel handle turned slowly and the large door flew open. There stood a bewildered, snow covered, shaking young Sweets whose teeth chattered as he glared into his apartment.

"What. The._ Hell_?!" Lance cried, clutching his keys in his pale fingers. His shoulder shook with the cold that had seeped into his skin. The entire forensic team stared at him as he brushed snowflakes from his damp, wavy hair.

"How hey Sweets! We broke into your apartm-" Then Hodgins voice turned to a grumbling noise as Angela pressed her hand over his mouth.

"Hey, sweetie! Why don't you come wrap yourself in a blanket, you look offley cold!" Angela grinned, her voice sown with practiced cheer.

"No." Lance said, crossing his arms. "Why are you here?!" He turned, closing the door behind him, he peered out into the hallway suspiciously before locking the door.

"We were worried…" Brennan began as she held up the note he'd dropped. Sweets eyes widened and his mouth fell open. Suddenly anger streaked his gaze, and the team cringed.

"Why did you pick it up?" He growled, his voice low. "You could have just held it until you saw me tomorrow." He kept his voice eerily calm, and quiet. His glare fell on every person in his apartment, an electric shock hitting each one of them. "It's none of your concern! I'm a big boy now, I really can take care of myself." Sweets felt himself snapping, he tried to gain control and close his mouth. He watched as his words sunk in, everyone surprised, guilty, and hurt. He couldn't control himself, he bit his lip waiting for one of them to speak.

"Your our friend, Sweets." Booth boomed, making Sweets to stumble. The psychologist was still on a high of anger, and fright that Tucker was coming. On reflex he held his bandaged hands over his face, sinking back until his back hit the wall. Booth shook his head, guilt swimming in his thoughts. "We want to help you. Why do you always try and push us away, and take care of yourself?"

"Because.." He squeaked, still cringing by the wall. "Because _I have too_. I'm alone, and I have to take care of myself." He gulped back the rest of his sentence, opening his eyes just enough to see Cam sit still, completely disconnecting herself. angela began to cry again, as Hodgins just shook his head.

"You aren't alone, Dr. Sweets…" Brennan began, but Sweets felt a new rush, a new need for them to leave. He didn't want to be alone, but it was his natural state, it's how he was.

"Leave, please, just leave…." He grumpled, watching as Cam gave up on disconnection and held her face in her hands, crying. "I need to be alone!" He cried at them, and another surprise was dumped upon them, the team thought they couldn't handle anything else. "Don't you understand? It's who I am, it's my way of living!" Sweets whimpered, begging for them to leave. "It's the way I belong…"

"You can't believe that…" Hodgins began, but Lance shot him a look that caused him to shut his mouth instantaneously.

"Believe it? Of course I do! It's how I am, just like how Booth needs to protect people. Hodgins needs to be angry. even when he's happy. Brennan needs to be rational, Angela needs to see love! Cam needs control. Just like all of you need those things, I need to be alone." He gasped out, his tears barely spilling over his eyes. "Please…" Sweets voice was broken, like a child begging to get his favorite toy back.

"You don't need to be alone, it's just how you've had to be. Now you have friends, Lance, theres no need to be alone anymore!" Brennan stepped past Booth, looking at the cringing boy before her. He was wet, shivering, and had the look of someone who'd been through hell, which he had.

"It's the only way I know how to be…" He whispered, and Temperance pulled him into a strong hug. She held him in her arms, feeling his body shake and the water from the snow getting all over her outfit. "I'm scared of..of not being alone!" He gasped, holding his injured hands to his chest. She held him tighter, but he still shook.

"The only way to overcome your fear, is to face it. I've begun to see the world with less rationality, more emotion." She sing-songed into his ear. "You can to, your brilliant Lance, you can do almost anything." Her voice was soft, and mothering. Booth blinked in amazement, and the entire team was taken back by how she spoke. That's when the entire team became aware of something the anthropologist hadn't yet admitted to herself, she considered Sweets a child, and she had to protect him. Not a child like everyone else did because of his age, a child like she was his little brother, or his adopted son, one she needed to protect.

"I don't know if I can.." Lance whispered, he was scared, shaking from fear and chill.

"We'll help you then, Dr. Sweets." Came Camellia's gentle voice, she stood giving an uplifting smile. "We are a team, and you're a member so we have to look out for you."

"Yes we will! From us both, Angela's lost her voice from all the crying…" Hodgins grinned at Sweets, who felt a pang of guilt for causing the gorgeous woman to cry so much.

"Of course I will, baby boy shrink." Booth teased, patting the boys shoulder. The shaking the agent felt under his palm was unnerving.

"You know I will…" Brennan paused, gulping back her nervous tone. "Baby duck.." She smiled, everyone in the room understood but Sweets, who stared absently at her. Suddenly a soft ringing broke the moment, and Sweets slipped his phone from his soaked pocket.

"Dr. Lance Sweets." He said with a clear, calm tone that startled the team. A raspy breathing was on the other end of the line, and Lance's face hit a new shade of pale none of them knew could be achieved.

"Lance Shannon, Dr. Lance Shannon." The voice corrected, and the psychologist's face contorted like he was going to scream, but he couldn't even breathe. "I'll get you, son. Even with all your friends there, I'll still get you." Booth had taken out his phone and was already tracking the number, even without a word from Sweets. "We will be a family, even if I have to tie you up to make you stay. That's how much I love you." The voice had a grin obvious in it's speaking, and Lance was turning purple from not breathing. The long tone of a hang up was ringing in his ear when he dropped the phone to the ground.

"Tucker.." Came his raspy, raw voice as he fell back into the wall. He wanted to sink into that wall, disappear forever into the light paint. The team came around in a protective circle but he shook his head, pushing past all of them he slammed the door to his bathroom. Collapsing onto shaking knees he bent over his toilet and puked. He threw up until he started to think he was throwing up things he'd never eaten. Cold sweats covered his body and his hands shook so violently they looked like they were vibrating. His vision was blurred by tears and his ears were popping and pounding with a headache. He fell to his side, his back covered in sweat, his legs trembling and his arms unable to move. Voices called from behind the locked door, they called for him but he was shaking so violently he couldn't move. His throat burned with a fierce ache, and he was coughing so hard he began to taste blood. "When will my suffering just stop?!" He whispered to himself, he couldn't make his voice any louder. "I just want it to stop.." He cried, but he didn't actually cry because he'd just puked all his guts out.

"Sweets, Sweets!" Booth called, he could hear what the young man was saying and his worry was growing. "Don't do anything stupid, just let us in!" He called, and soon they heard the soft noise of the lock unlatching. Sweets scoot backwards until he leaned against the wall. He held his stomach with his arms, squeezing so tight it hurt. His knees were pulled up to his face and he was shaking, and sweating. Then Booth was the only one to enter the room, pushing the door open gently, the living room light washed over the curled up figure in the corner. "Sweets…" Booth whispered, leaning before him. The bags under the man eyes were hauntingly purple on his white face. His eyes were sunken into his face. He looked like he was dying of some incurable disease.

"Agent Booth.." Sweets coughed, pushing his palms into his eyes until he began to see frizzling colors. "He's going to get me."

"No, Sweets, no. He won't, I won't let him."

"You can't stop him, Agent Booth. He's gonna find me, he always finds me."

"We're gonna catch that bastard and we're gonna have Caroline charge him with anything she can find." Booth pulled the shaking man into a hug, Sweets just cried into his shoulder, shaking and hurt.

Booth put a bolo out on Tucker Shannon as Sweets sat on the couch, clutching a pillow staring at a television that was just a plain grey screen. The team buzzed, everyone making calls, getting favors, Angela tracking any movement, they all needed to catch that monster. Sweets couldn't move, even when he pushed every muscle in his body he was frozen. He felt pathetic and weak, it made is mood even darker. Whenever a member of the team tried to speak to him, he couldn't even move his eyes to look at them. Not a nod, a noise, or a glimmer of recognition was in his face. He was frozen, stuck in his head with no escape. The night pulled on, soon it was 3 in the morning and the entire team was asleep across the psychologists floor. Booth had his phone in his fist as he snored, Cam was pulled into herself in the corner. Angela and Hodgins were pressed against each other, sprawled in the center and Brennan's head was lying softly against Booth's leg, her hand holding Cams. Lance sat awake in terror as a slow knock beat against his door. Slipping off the couch, he knew who was at the door, but his voice was far past gone, he couldn't make a noise. Slowly he unlocked the door, pulling it open and he was greeted by a looming figure. A sly grin cut across it's tan cheeks, as his vicious teeth glinted in the light of the hallway. Hard, cold, soulless eyes looked down at the sickly Lance Sweets.

"My son." Came the horrible, joyful voice as he pulled the man into a hug. Lance screamed silently, cringing and pulling away but he was weak. The young man cringed in pain, his ribs aching and his scars on fire. His voice was gone, he couldn't cry for help. "I've missed, why don't you give ol' dad a hug?" He bellowed happily, but Sweets refused. The man's smile fell and his eyes went icey. "No hug for daddy?" He growled, and Lance nodded, pulling his shoulder up in preparation for the beating he was about to receive. Tucker brought his thick arm up, clenching his hand into a fist. He slammed his fist deep into the psychologists jaw, sending him into the wall. He opened his mouth to scream but all that escaped was a stream of ruby blood. The noise of Tuckers fist connecting with Lance's jaw was enough, and Booth was up with his gun out in an instant.

"Tucker Shannon, put your hands up!" He shouted, stirring the team slowly awake. Everyone stayed on the floor as Sweets' coughing filled the air. Tucker yanked Sweets up by his gentle curls, swinging him in front of him, Lance was only inches shorter then him. Tucker twisted a Model SW1911 100th Anniversary Special from his belt. He held the gun to Lance's head, pressing the cool metal to his skull. Lance squeezed his eyes shut, sure this was his end.

"Drop the weapon, Agent Booth, or I'll blow this pathetic weaklings brains all over the walls!" He shouted, apartment lights flicking on. Lance flinched haunching his shoulder, Angela fell onto Hodgins in tears. Brennan and Cam pulled close, hugging absent mindedly as they both felt tears sting their eyes.

"It's over Shannon, you aren't getting out of here alive!" Booth growled, pushing the fear out of his voice. He watched Lance begin to shake again, but a strange calm was on the young mans face.

"No, I'm not but neither is he!" Shannon roared, pushing the gun so hard against the psychologists temple a ring was beginning to form in his skin. Suddenly a crack rang out in the apartment and Sweets thought surely he was dead, but he began to open his eyes and the fingers tangled in his hair released. Suddenly a thud blew through the silence, and Sweets turned to see Tucker Shannon curled around his gun, crying as his left side bled. "Oh God! Why didn't you kill me!? You sick bastard!" Came the weakening voice of the one who tortured Sweets' dreams.

"Hell no, I'm throwing you in prison to die!" Booth laughed. Lance watched as scarlett began seeping into his jeans and his shoes, around his hands and up into his bandages. the thick hand of Tucker Shannon wrapped around his wrist and his dark eyes widened.

"Son, I love you don't let them throw me in prison." Tucker whispered, pulling Sweets closer. "You know you love me, I'm your father." Sweets just stared, finally gaining his sanity enough to give a spine chilling glare.

"You are not my father, you're a pathetic worthless monster!" Sweets voice called out, but it was weak and scratchy. He ripped his arm from the man's grip as the paramedics finally arrived, a neighbor had called 911. Booth and Brennan rushed to Sweets as he slowly pulled himself to his feet. A red ring was on his temple and a bruise was forming across his cheek, a streak of blood slowly drying from his lip. He turned to the group and was bewildered by a tight hug from Brennan and Booth. He felt Tuckers blood slowly dripping down his legs and soaking into his socks, but he felt a rush of happiness hit him as the held him in their arms.

"I'm gonna charge that bastard with so many things his attorney's head will be spinnin' like a top!" Caroline called in her loud, comical voice. She stomped out of the room after giving Sweets a brief hug. "Take care of yourself, Cherie." She had whispered in his ear.

"I told you Caroline was gonna put him away for good." Booth laughed, his arm around Brennan. A week had passed since the shootout and Sweets apartment, and Sweets was starting to slowly come back to Earth. He'd only zoned out twice that day, and his nightmares were becoming less vivid. Sweets laughed and nodded to Ms. Julian, everyone buzzed around him. They all worried, but he was happy, it was over and he wasn't alone.

….

**It's not over! Just kidding we have an Epilogue! I'll get that up soon!**

**Review and thanks for reading! (BTW: A Model SW1911 100th Anniversary Special is a gun...you should google it o.O))**


	17. Epilogue

**Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.**

**-Winston Churchill **

**This is the epilogue, and this is the end. Well of this story, not the end forever. **

**It's been fun, and sad, I hope you read any other writing I post! Thank. You. For. Reading. This!**

…**..**

They had just solved another case, a woman had been hung in the woods by her hands. Her husband hand been angry when he caught her sleeping with one of her high school biology students and had slit her throat. Sweets was sitting in his office, doodling on a piece of printer paper when Booth threw the door open. "Hey Sweets!" He called, his jolly tone catching the psychologists attention. "We are having some of Hodgins little alcoholic concoctions at the lab with the squints, lets head out!" Booth scooped the air with his arm, motioning for Sweets to come. The young man pushed out of his chair and folded the paper over and over and slipped it into his pocket.

"Okay...wait, I thought you hated hangin' with the squints at the lab." Sweets questioned as they headed towards the elevator.

"I did, well do, I just thought they deserve for me to be a little flexible. I mean I couldn't solve the murders without them.." Booth grinned happily at Sweets. The bruises on his face had begun fading, it'd been three weeks since the Tucker incident. Christmas had come and gone, and now it was a new year. "or you. I couldn't catch 'em without you either." And Sweets looked up, giving a sincere smile as he stroked the newly forming scar on his right palm.

The agent and the young doctor strode up onto the second floor, Booth giving an enthusiastic wave to the group of laughing scientists, and an artist. "Booth, Sweets!" Called Angela with a wave, the team smiled as the two sat. Hodgins gave them each a strange looking beverage, and Booth turned to Cam a bit worried.

"It's not poison, Seeley. It's actually pretty good." The corner smiled brightly, holding her own glass up and taking a sip. Booth looked suspiciously at the drink, and shrugged taking a drink.

"Oh man! Hodgins that's a strong one!" He croaked out, shaking his head with a slight cough, The bug expert grinned deviously and took a sip of his own cup, his eyes beginning to water. Sweets turned the cup in his hand, making a small tornado in the cup. He had zoned out again, and the team had become accustomed to the random fits of half consciousness their shrink had. "Sweets, you gotta try this stuff!" Booth called, causing the young man to jump. He turned up a smile and nodded, taking a small swig of the drink. The team watched as he barely flinched at the strong taste, and a strong worry hit them again.

"Woah, Sweets you take your alcohol strong man!" Hodgins laughed and Sweets returned some laughter. He was tired, but everyone looked worried.

"Guys, you all look like I tried to chop my hand off!" Sweets announced, jokingly. "I'm totally cool guys, just kinda tired." He laughed, getting the team to crack a few smiles. "I couldn't get any sleep last night, I was thinkin' about an article I read. I hate my life sometimes." He grinned, but the room became serious.

"Sweets...you can't just say you hate your life after all that's happened. It scares us…" Angela's voice was slow, cacious.

"I was kidding, guys! Lighten up…" He pleaded with them, smiling his boyish smile. They couldn't resist him and all began to laugh.

"We make one hell of a team." Booth announced, sparking a spontaneous agreement.

"In my professional, psychological opinion you are the best forensic team out there!" Sweets laughed, and everyone nodded. Booth swung his strong arm around the young man's shoulders.

"We!" He corrected with a sly grin. "We are the best forensic team out there!" Booth laughed, and Sweets nodded. A feeling of acceptance washed over him as the team laughed and joked until midnight.

…**..**

**This is where is would fade to black and then we'd hit credit's and nice music would play. **

**THANK YOU for reading! Review?!**


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